Flowers and Chocolates (& Misunderstandings)
by Castello
Summary: Russ wakes up the morning after a crazy stag night, hung-over, grumpy, and wondering who the hell has sent Holly roses. Of course, Milt knows exactly what's going on. And of course, Russ doesn't want his help. He's got this. Except, the roses weren't for Holly. They're for Russ. (Rating for language and some VERY explicit content)
1. Chapter 1

" _Jesus_." Russ groaned, stupidly trying to rub away the near-migraine thundering in his head.

The details were still a bit blurry, but the basics of the night before are there. Stag night. Strippers. _A lot_ of alcohol. _Possibly_ Russ dancing drunk on a pole. With a feather boa. He's just praying he's not the only one with a bit of Jack Daniels amnesia, and that if he _did_ twirl around in plastic chaps, they've forgotten about it too. Honestly though, half of them look as bad as he does, so his chances of surviving the embarrassment seem pretty high.

His biggest competitor for worst headache is probably Font. Poor guy looks about two minutes away from stumbling onto his face and vomiting on his shoes. The only reason Russ was still (mostly) stable on his feet was because Milt was in their office, watching him with keen eyes. It's a pain to keep his back straight and fight off the want to massage his head. It feels like Milt is just _waiting_ for Russ to screw up and walk face first into the station doors. _As if_ he'd give that fed the pleasure. When he undoubtedly does bang his shin on his desk, he blamed Milt for distracting him.

Funk's the best off of all of them, smirking happily and ripping into the box of doughnuts by the crappy coffee maker.

Russ blames Milt for that too.

Trust Mr. Perfect to always bring doughnuts at the most inconvenient time for Russ. Like he plans it before hand, jots a note down in his calendar and everything. Usually he'd be all for free pastries, but hangovers have the magical power to make even the most delicious food suddenly seem like a sin. Rather than being envious watching Funk devour a bacon maple bar in two bites, he just felt queasy. Funk, however, noticed everyone groaning around him and bravely volunteered to commandeer everyone else's share.

"Long night?" Milt smirked, casually slipping his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

It was too early. Way too early to be dealing with Milt's stupidly charming smile. Curse him for being so casual, leaning against Russ's desk while he sat there moaning in pain. "Shut up." he grumped, plopping his cheek down on the cool top of his station, trying to soak up the sweet relief before the wood underneath him undoubtedly became warm.

Milt chuckled, patted his shoulder, then pushed off, headed towards the small group clustered around the doughnuts.

That annoyingly blue suit finally out of his line of sight, Russ noticed them. He'd been sitting there for a good ten minutes and _hadn't noticed them_.

"Who bought Holly flowers?"

The team turned fractionally, barely registering his words over Milt's. They probably only noticed at all because Milt had paused to eye the vase of roses sitting gracefully atop Holly's desk, red ribbon tied around the glass. It looked like an awfully romantic thing, with little white pearls weaving in and out through the arrangement, showing up in bight contrast to the red petals. He'd like the way they looked if they didn't make him tense.

Jacocks scoffs, "Oh like you don't know."

"I don't." Russ huffs, "That's why I asked."

"Mmhm." she hummed, turning her attention back to the group, "You must have been too drunk to remember."

His head hurts, "Remember what?"

But she's not listening anymore, they've started chatting amongst themselves again and Russ is left alone, brooding at the vase without a card.

It's only because he's worried for Holly of course. Whoever sent it to her desk obviously didn't know her home address, so they knew her from the station, which could only lead to a dead-beat or a drug dealer, even a criminal. That just wasn't acceptable.

He resolved to have Jacocks check into it later, maybe see if Holly herself knew who her mystery sender was, since there wasn't any card to go off of. He grumbled, pressed his forehead to the desk, and tried not to think about greasy food.

* * *

The second gift was a lot more trying on his brain.

Only a day or two after the flowers, another present was found perched on Holly's desk. Of course, she was out when he'd noticed it, and like any responsible police officer, he decided to check to make sure it was safe. Not that chocolates in a heart-shaped box weren't safe... but it was easy to drug food. Especially chocolate.

He swiped them off the desk casually, hoping no one would notice before he could get them out of the way. He slipped the lid open, fingering a chocolate out of it's wrap before carefully examining it. Looked fine, and upon further inspection it smelt fine too. Then again, Rohypnol was colorless and odorless. Taste it was then. He popped it into his mouth, making a surprised sound when it burst open and a liquid came pouring out.

Scotch. _Good_ scotch. Mixed with the milky chocolate casually melting on his tongue, it really was amazing. Russ actually let himself shut his eyes for a moment and enjoy the taste. How lucky he would be if someone would buy him chocolates like this... He snapped back to attention, coughing into his fist and trying to hide his chewing as Font began passing him a questioning look.

He was about to secretly try and stuff another one into his mouth when Milt popped up out of nowhere behind him, "Chocolates? Nice."

Russ jerked forward, the chocolate practically flying out of his hand. He was about to lose it to the floor, and if he hadn't fumbled around for a good couple minutes, he would have. His tumbling managed to knock the chocolate up into the air just a couple extra seconds, enough time for Milt to lean into his space at least.

Russ was certain he'd stopped breathing for a minute or two. The chocolate was in his hand, crushed. Milt's fingers, tightly coiled around his own, were holding steadfast with such intense force that the alcohol was running down and through his fingers in dribbles and chocolate chunks.

"Milt."

"Russ..."

"Let go of my hand."

"Oh." Milt hesitantly took his hand away, eyes passing between Russ's and the chocolate-y mess they'd made, "Yeah. Right."

Russ sighed, "Don't tell Holly."

Milt frowned, confused, "Don't tell Holly what?"

"That I took her chocolates."

A contemplative look passed over Milt's features momentarily. He nodded, hummed, and bid him a good morning before heading back to his own office, leaving Russ alone, confused and scraping chocolate and liquor off his palms.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own these lovely, frustrating men, I just thought Holly was too nice for Russ. He needs Milt. BECAUSE MILT NEEDS HIM!**  
 ***happily sobbing with canon shipper feels***  
 **I swear to god that scene was like the Destiel one all over again. Stupid men, pronouncing "I love you" wrong...**

* * *

The third gift was... a little confusing.

Well, not _all_ that confusing considering it showed up mid-fall. Propped up on Holly's desk, hidden in a little blue and gold box, strung up with a sparkling navy ribbon. It was appealing to look at, Russ would admit, but that didn't stop him from grumbling unhappily when Holly finally got around to opening it. The rest of the team nosed their way over, watching her gleefully unwrap her gift. Jacocks had made a little squealing noise when Holly pulled it out from the box, the tissue paper crinkling around it.

Scarves were an appropriate gift for cold weather. Right? Whoever had sent it obviously had thought it through. Black wasn't really Holly's color though, she would look better wrapped in something bright, maybe with a pattern. Yellow or... maybe a bright red to match her hair. Stripes would look good on her.

In fact, it was a rather bland scarf really, not exactly the kind of gift you'd give to a girl. Actually... it looked like it would suit _Font_ better than it would Holly. Maybe they really hadn't put as much consideration into it as he'd thought. He frowned, watching her card her fingers through the tissue paper before pulling out a little white card.

"Oh?" Jacocks smirked, eyeing Russ, "Did mystery man finally leave a card this time?"

The redhead smiled shyly, flipping it over to read the print. "I guess-? ...oh."

"What? Did he leave his name? Do you know who it's from?"

Holly smiled, picking up the scarf from the box, "Well, no, actually. They didn't leave a name. But it's not for me."

Russ could see the confusion cross over his team, and wondered if he was making the same stupid kind of face. "Not for you?" Font chimed in, "Who's it for then?"

"Russ." Holly replied, happily draping the black material over Russ' neck and tucking it over his shoulder.

" _Me_?"

" _Russ_?" Jacocks squeaked, turning, wide eyed towards the detective.

Russ glowered, "What. You don't think anyone wants to send me gifts?"

"Well, no-no... of course not..." she backtracked, "I just- you're not? I thought _you_ were the one getting those gifts for _Holly_."

"Wha-me?"

She scowled, "Shut up Russ." a heavy sigh fell from her lips as she frowned, pinching her nose, "At least that makes more sense."

Russ growled, " _What_ makes more sense Jacocks?"

"I kept putting those gifts on Holly's desk because I thought they were _from_ Russ."

"You _what_?!"

"You're a clueless idiot, I just thought I was helping you along. Delivery said the flowers were for you, I figured you were going to put them on her desk."

Russ's jaw had decided to stop cooperating, "You- you _what_? What-what kind of person _does_ that? Why would I-" he scowled, jumping up from his chair, "Stop meddling in other people's business! This entire station is filled with idiotic-!"

"Now, there's no need for that."

Milt's voice jerked Russ back, the man's hand gently resting on his shoulder, a pleasant smile over his cheeks. Milt was doing a good job of making Russ jump lately. At least, a lot more than usual. With his annoying face, and annoying suits and his even more annoying face. "What's all the commotion about?" Milt politely asked.

Funk was the first to volunteer gossip, "Somebody's been sendin' Russ presents."

"Oh?"

"There was a misunderstanding, we thought they were for Holly." Jacocks added, shooting an apologetic glance Russ's way.

Milt cocked his head to the side, studying Russ, "Really? So... the flowers, and the chocolates?"

"Chocolates?" Holly frowned.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Milt. It was a misunderstanding. It doesn't matter anyway," Russ's glare flipped from Milt to an ashamed raise of the eyebrows towards Holly. "They were for me. I ate them. It's-"

"You ate chocolates that you thought were for Holly?" Jacocks smirked, crossing her arms, like she'd just slipped another puzzle piece in place. "Huh."

Russ groaned, dragged a hand down his face and let his eyes close. "You know what?" He let out a heaved breath, puffed out his chest, then confidently coiled the scarf tighter around his neck, "I'm clocking out early."

Milt followed him out, keeping in near perfect step with him, wide grin on his face.

"Not a word, Milt."

"Nice scarf."

"Shut up. It's warm and I like the color, okay?"

Milt shrugged, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, "Looks good on you."

"I said shut up, Milt." he bit, red tinting his cheeks.

* * *

The fourth gift, came directly to him, under no presence of it being for someone else. It was Russ's gift. Somebody had gone out of their way to get _him_ , Russ Agnew, a special gift. Four in fact, and If that made him a little bit proud, well, nobody else needed to know.

The present came in a case this time. When Russ had unwrapped the paper, he'd been greeted with a black, small, briefcase. Of course, his instincts had immediately kicked in. What if someone was targeting him? What if it was a bomb? What if all the previous gifts were a ploy to get him to open this one without reservations? What if-

"Another gift from the mystery lover?" Jacocks squawked, happily planting herself on the corner of Russ's desk, Holly and Font right behind her, "What's inside?"

"I don't know. I didn't open it."

Holly nudged his shoulder, "Why not?"

"It could be a bomb."

"Or more chocolates." she replied, smirking.

"I already apologized for that."

Font crossed his arms, nodding at the case, "Just open it."

"No. It could be dangerous."

"Fine." Jacocks grinned, leaning over, " _I'll_ open it!"

"No, don't!"

Before Russ could stop her, Jacocks had unclasped the buckles and tossed open the case. Now, silently, all four of them stared down at the contents of the little brief case. It was Russ who finally moved. His eyes were wide as he raked his hand across the new, polished, Vipertek stun gun. His mouth bobbed in a serious of intelligible babble as he plucked it carefully from it's foam holder, once more running his fingers along the brick of it.

"Dude." Font chuckled, "I want a mystery sugar mama."

"How do you know it's a mama?" Jacocks smirked, "What if it's a sugar _daddy_?"

Russ choked, laughed, and happily set to work buckling the holster for his shiny new taser onto his belt, "Honestly, I don't care. I'd happily shake his hand."

" _Just_ shake his hand?" Holly shot back, rubbing her arm nervously, "And if he wants more than that?"

Russ shrugged, "I- I mean, I guess it would depend." he stumbled, protectively touching his new stun gun, like it would be taken away from him if the mystery man suddenly didn't like him anymore. "I-I'd obviously have to meet him. OR HER! I mean, we don't know if it's a guy or a girl so..."

Jacocks was snickering, Font coughing into his fist, loyally trying to contain his laughter as Holly smiled into her shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**So... I've still had some internet problems. I've literally had to re-write this chapter. Twice. I'd be close to the halfway point, and then the page would short out.**

 **It was so. much. fun.** **I finally resorted to spam saving every like... 30 words. XD I hope the final result was worth it. ;)**

* * *

It was a while more before Russ was actually given the chance to learn more about his mystery sugar mama (or daddy, as Jacocks had so happily pointed out) and their intentions. Honestly, he was ready to hear what this secret admirer wanted from him. Not that he didn't appreciate their gifts, of course. They were lovely. Really, really lovely.

Russ didn't remember the last time he'd felt so... confident with himself. The last time he was so productive, or just... overall happy. Pride bubbled up inside him every time he spotted a new gift atop his desk. The idea that someone had taken the time to thoughtfully pick something out for him, was, after all, very flattering.

Coming in to work one morning to find Font and Funk drooling over the small pastry box sitting on his desk, Russ had been delighted to sink his teeth into a fancy, flaky French Pastry, apparently imported, according to the small note that came with it. He'd smiled upon reading the finely printed "Good morning."

There was a chorus of grumpy, envious groans when he polished off the last of it, a small bit of flavored cream staining his upper lip.

He had a little collection of gifts now actually. Of course the flowers had wilted and he'd eaten the chocolates, but there had been more gifts after the stun gun. Nice, chic, black-leather gloves to match the scarf, another box of chocolates, this time with a list of the different liquors in each chocolate, in case he found one he'd particularly liked, and a watch. Of course, it wasn't just any watch. Oh no. This was a military issue time zone watch. It showed the times for different regions, hundred hours and standard, had a stop watch, timer, alarm settings, lit up in the dark, and even told the date. Every badass's dream.

Of course, Font and Funk had pointedly refused to start talking in o-hundred hour codes with him.

The gifts had been coming for weeks now, long enough for everyone at the office to get their fill of gossip with the coming of every new trinket. The gang had even started a betting pool, working with the gender of the mystery sender, the date Russ would meet them, and whether or not he'd reject them. Everybody had become an interested party.

Today though, today there wasn't a pretty package.

There was a simple, clean note propped up on his desk, sealed with a fine red wax.

"Finally!" Jacocks gasped, jumping up from her desk and making her way towards Russ, "We've been waiting _ages_! Come on Russ! Open it!"

"I'm not _that_ late." Russ huffed, fighting her insistent pushes.

She kept nudging him forward, "I was about five minutes away from just opening the damn thing myself."

"That's illegal." he retorted, gently picking up the letter and running his thumb over the crisp stationary.

Font, who had been idly tossing a foam ball into the air when Russ walked in, was now at their side, Holly and the rest hot on their heels. Holly touched his arm lightly, poking over her nose at the letter, "Are you going to open it or not?"

"I'll open it when I get home."

"What?!" Jacocks whined, "You can't leave us in suspense like that! I have valuable money placed on the contents of that thing!"

Russ scoffed, "What, did you start a new section of the pool when you saw it this morning?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I bet ten bucks that he'd bring up a chance to meet you in person."

Font smirked, "You still think it's a guy?"

"Of course it is. Think about it, some charming knight in shining armor, swooping in to take care of grumpy old Russ."

"I'm not grumpy." he grumped, "and I can take care of myself."

"Guz thinks it's a guy too." Jacocks confirmed, matter-of-factly, seizing her opportunity as she watched Guz join their little circle.

Russ groaned, wiping a hand down his face before plonking down in his chair, "Not you too..."

"I bet good money. I'm pretty confident. Now open the damned letter Russ."

"This is my private life. None of you have the right to interfere." He shot Font a glare, "Why are you guys doing this? I understand the girls and their gossip but-"

Holly smacked his arm. Font was the first to plead innocent, "I'm just looking out for my best friend."

"I told my wife about this, now she wants me to do something like it for her. I'm just gathering inspiration."

Funk shrugged, "There's nothing better to do."

Guz smirked down at him, full of pride in an army of busybodies behind her, "Just open it Russ."

" _Fine_."

Angrily ripping open the seal, Russ flipped the paper until he was greeted with finely printed writing, fine tip. It might have been a stupid thought, but Russ had to tame his stomach after thinking about how much time the writer would have taken to craft this... how long they sat, writing something intended for Russ. _Only_ for Russ. "I changed my mind." he grunted, quickly ( _yet carefully_ ) refolding it, "I am going to read this at home."

"Read what at home?"

Curse Milt and his inopportune timing. Jacocks crossed her arms, a pout spreading over her face, "Russ got a letter from his secret admirer, and now he isn't sharing."

"A letter." Milt repeated, "Did you read it yet?"

Russ shook his head, "It's personal. I'm going to wait until I get home."

"That's sweet of you, Russ."

He gawked, "It's not sweet. It's just- me being respectful. Whoever wrote it spent a lot of time on it. It's... it's my letter. I can choose when I want to read it."

"You know, compliments aren't bad things."

"They are coming from you."

Holly smacked his arm again.

Jacocks sighed with defeat, slumping down in her desk chair lazily, "Will you at least share what it says tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe it's something dirty." Font entertained, waving a hand, "Maybe they're trying to seduce you."

"But he's been sweet with everything else. If he just wanted to sleep with Russ I'm sure he'd have sent something more raunchy. Like a G-string." Jacocks suggested, tapping her chin as if deep in thought, "Or maybe a thong. Who knows, he could be kinky."

"Oh god..." Russ groaned.

Milt stuffed his hands into his pockets, "He?"

"We think it's a guy sending Russ gifts." Holly supplied.

" _You_ think it's a guy." Font tossed back in rebuttal, "I still say it's a woman."

"Does it matter?" Milt questioned, this time directing his question directly towards Russ, body fully pointed towards him.

Russ shrugged, "No. Not really."

"Are you bisexual, Russ?"

He nearly choked, "Whoa, whoa, I didn't say anything about that. I'd like to meet the guy, sure, but beyond that-"

"So you think it's a man too?"

"I didn't say that."

Jacocks snorted, "You kind of did."

Russ buried his head in his hands, "I'll tell you what it says after I read it. Can you all leave me alone now?"

"I hope he brings more of those éclairs next time." Funk offered, shuffling back to his own desk, the rest of the gang following suit.

Milt stayed however, smiling wide, "I've got a case, if you're interested." he said, rocking forward an inch on his heels, "You could bring that new taser you love so much."

"You're jealous and you know it." Russ smirked, standing and making his way towards the door, coat in hand.

Milt, still grinning from ear to ear, casually trailed behind, muttering under his breath, "Not exactly."


	4. Chapter 4

**I own nothing except the cardboard box I call home.**  
 **...And a little bit of the plot.**

 **I really haven't done any editing on this yet, so if you happen to catch a mistake, please let me know! Then I can swoop in and polish it up a little bit. :)**

* * *

 _Dearest Russel,_

Well, the letter was already off to a mushy start.

Russ had decided to wait until he was home, barefoot feet propped up on the coffee table and a beer in hand, before he finally opened his letter. Alone with himself, he decided to take a moment to just appreciate the letter itself. It was romantic, a handwritten letter, the calligraphy beautifully scribbled down over the soft stationary. The paper didn't feel real, like someone had special ordered it, and Russ just couldn't process it.

Why someone would take so much time for him... it didn't make sense.

 _I hope you've enjoyed your gifts so far. It took a while to think of things you might appreciate. I figured practical, yet substantial._

Of course. There was so reason to buy something flashy that Russ would never use. That being said, he wouldn't really want something too practical. Light bulbs and toothbrushes weren't very romantic. It made sense. It was thoughtful. Russ was happy knowing whoever his mystery gift-giver was, they at least had the sense to know that.

 _I know you're curious about me, but I'd like for you to really get to know me before you make any decisions. I will say, my intentions are honorable._

Oh really?

 _It might not be the most conventional of ways to start a relationship, keeping my identity a secret from you. I firmly believe that love grows when you get to know a person, not by staring at their body or even sleeping with them. I want to know you, and I want you to know me._

"Then actually tell me something about yourself." Russ snorted, taking a quick swig of his beer.

 _I know you're a romantic, and I had plans to write out a seductive letter, but I'm afraid it turned out to be more clinical than I imagined. However, this is not the only letter I will send. I did hope we could start communication back and forth? You would be free to ask me questions, as long as they do not attain to my identity._

 _And it would save me an hour. Calligraphy is an art, but people text these days for a reason._

Russ nearly spit out some of his drink, letting out an out-loud laugh. Okay, a little funny. Russ could work with that.

 _I hope this is enough for now, contact me when you feel ready to do so._

 _Forever yours_

No signature, but at the end was a sticky note with an email Sharpied onto it. Nothing revealing, in fact, with an email like Forever_Yours323, Russ wondered if it hadn't been freshly made just so he could write to Russ. Smart. Russ probably couldn't trace that back to him. He could try, but the man had managed not to sign his name for anything so far. Which should have been fishy, but anyone seriously interested in Russ would know he'd try to find them.

He was a cop through and through, and any potential lover should know that. This guy was prepared. OR GIRL! This guy _or girl_. Definitely could still go either way. He should ask, get that bet cleared up and the crew off his back. If nothing more, he could learn a little bit about his admirer. The rewards for emailing him outweighed he risks... So, gulping down the last of his beer, he decided to open up his laptop.

Russ started with a formal hello, his name, and then jumped right into the "Are you a man or a woman?" question. He asked for a few other things, "What do I call you?" "How do you know me?" "Have I seen you before?" "Are you a serial killer?" You know, typical questions.

He sent it before he could stop himself. It was done. He'd sent the email. He sighed, cracked his knuckles, and decided to turn in for the night. Russ was careful to prop his letter up gently on his dresser, the wax seal facing outward.

* * *

" _Sooooo_..." Jacocks greeted Russ, cozying up to his side, "What did your letter say?"

He shrugged her off, "Not much."

"Russ."

"Just... intentions."

"Ooh, dirty."

"Not that kind." He huffed, plopping down in his chair, trying to concentrate on the familiar squeak of his poor quality furniture. Or at least, trying to ignore Jacocks. "Just... where he saw this going."

"He tell you his name?"

Russ swerved a little in his seat, "No. He wants to wait for that."

"And that doesn't make you suspicious?"

"It means he's smart."

Jacocks clicked her tongue, taking a leaning position on his desk, "Tell me you at least know he's a guy _for sure_."

"Not yet..." he admitted, "But I sent an email."

She raised an eyebrow, "You're emailing now? Since when?!"

"There was an address in the letter."

Smiling, Jacocks pushed herself off, crossing her arms, "So things are going well?"

"I guess."

"And Holly?"

Russ's attention was jerked towards the redhead's desk, praying she hadn't heard her name, "What about her?"

"I was only wondering."

He scoffed, swiveled his chair around and tried to concentrate on the paper on his desk, "Stop being a meddler."

"I'm concerned."

"You're nosy."

"Fine." she snipped, turning on her heel and walking the other way.

Russ let himself sigh outwardly, absent mindedly twirling a pencil between his fingers. What about Holly? She'd never shown any outward interest in him. Was he supposed to just... let himself miss out on an opportunity on the slightest chance she might actually-? No.

Russ stood, grabbed the file on his desk, and pointedly didn't look at the others as he walked to Milt's office.

"You look tired." Milt commented, offering a good cup of FBI coffee and a sympathetic smile, "Your secret admirer?"

"Yes. No." he groaned, wiping a hand down his face, "Maybe? I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. No I do not."

Milt's pleasant façade faltered for a second, just a fraction of a moment. Russ would have been excited for it, but he just wasn't feeling it. There was a lot to think about right now. Maybe he shouldn't have sent that email. Maybe he should have waited. Maybe he should have just thrown the letter away. Maybe-

"You should go home, Russ. You look like you could use some rest."

"Work-"

"Can wait. You're no good to the station when you can't concentrate."

Damn it. Milt was right again. He shook his head, "No. No, I'm fine. Let's just do this."

Milt's look of concern was more annoying than comforting.

* * *

There was an email notification waiting for him when he got home.

 _It's comforting to know you have so many questions. It means you're putting serious thought into this. Into us._

Russ snorted. How cheesy could you sound? The red tinting his cheeks was just a simple biological reaction to flattery. Nothing more.

 _How was your day?_

He inhaled slowly, took a gulp of beer, and began to write back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Still no beta, so if you spot a spelling mistake or anything like that, please let me know! Helps me out a ton. :)**

* * *

 _My day sucked._

Russ scolded himself, shrugged his shoulder, and deleted the sentence.

 _My day was fine._

 _I hope you're proud of yourself. I can't go to the office anymore without getting harassed for information on my secret admirer. You're a bit of a celebrity around the station. I wish I had answers to give them. Hell, you didn't even tell me your gender yet._

Russ clicked the send icon before he could convince himself not to. He didn't think much of it, and wasn't expecting a quick reply, but before he could log out, there was a notification for another email.

 _Let's give them something juicy then. Maybe it will keep them at bay for a while. I'm afraid I'm a rather typical stereotype; tall, dark and (I've been told) handsome. I like sports, fine dining, long walks on the beach and I am a man._

Oh.

 _Oh._

His computer made another alerting sound.

 _Does that make you uncomfortable?_

He scoffed. It was a bit too late for that now.

 _Maybe in the beginning, but there was a bet going around the office on whether you were a man or a woman. I sort of got used to the idea. I've just never really been interested in men before. Or, I guess they've never been into me? I haven't had a lot of experience here._

 _Not that I'm inexperienced! I'm not a virgin or anything. You're not going to get some untouched flower if that's what you were hoping for. Just not with guys. I don't do that. You know? Of course you know._

He sent the message before he could stop himself, hurridly adding an awkward little apology for his abruptness.

 _We've barely spoken yet, and already you're on the topic of sex. I can't decide whether to be surprised or secretly pleased._

Russ snickered.

 _Pervert._

* * *

Conversations exchanged regularly after that. Normally quick, "How was your day?" or "Have any ideas on this?". Russ had discovered that his mystery admirer was actually pretty helpful when he was in a rut. The guy knew what he was saying, and it made Russ wonder if maybe he was some kind of cop himself. Maybe they'd met at that convention in Montana. Russ had gone to try and plead his case for new equipment.

Holly started seeing some barista, and Russ got to vent about it. He'd almost tried to take it back after his email had sent, but the response was unexpected. Instead of sounding uninterested or upset, his admirer seemed genuinely interested in what Russ had to say. He asked questions, wondering how he felt about it, it was like talking to a friend. Actually, it was a little like talking to Milt. They were kind questions. He was sure to add that at the end of his reply.

They spoke back and forth for a month, and all in all, Russ had little to complain about. He was nice, intelligent, humorous, and... sort of dirty. When the conversation did turn into something flirtatious, Russ found himself swept away in minute fantasies, or detailed descriptions. It probably wouldn't have sat well with him if they'd jumped right into it, but every evening when his email notified him of a new "How was your day?" message, he found himself more than ready to spill it all.

Maybe this was how people in love spoke at the dinner table after work. It was oddly reminiscent of that. At least, the movie portrayal anyway. Maybe one day he'd get to hear someone greet him when he got home. Wouldn't that be weird.

 _I'm starting to fantasize about living in a 60s marriage with you. What have you done?_

The reply took a couple minutes, and for a moment Russ wondered if he had overstepped a boundary. The relief he felt when the notification sound finally went off worried him slightly. When had he become so needy for replies?

 _Sounds like something interesting. Do you have that stereotypical wife hair? Maybe a poodle dress? Please tell me you're in a poodle dress._

Russ had to actually try hard not to chuckle.

 _Shut up asshole. If anyone's gonna wear the dress, It'll be you. I'm a cop._

Of course he'd be the man. That was obvious wasn't it? He wasn't somebody who begged to be... well... he wasn't all that interested in having something up his ass. It would hurt, for one. Not even mentioning-

 _You saying cops can't dress up pretty? I bet you'd look amazing, all dressed up for me. I could come home and spread you out on the kitchen table, so beautiful, just for me. It's a wonderful mental image._

Russ's fingers paused over the keys. His cheeks went red, face hot, trying to envision the scenario in his head. Would Russ be patiently waiting for him in a dress? Did he look good? Would he shave his legs or something? Did he _want_ Russ like that? All dressed up and laid on a table? Thoughts of being taken on a kitchen table flashed through his mind. What would that _feel_ like? To wait horny for someone to come home, and watch the expression on their face when they realized... Would the sex be quick or drawn out? Could he make Russ moan- He coughed, slammed his laptop shut, and decided to turn in early. After a beer. Maybe two.

He didn't answer the email the next day.

* * *

"So? How's my bet looking?" Jacocks pestered on a rather uneventful day in the office.

Most of the gossip had died down, since he hadn't been receiving any gifts for nearly a month. His relationship with his admirer had sort of moved to the email thing, but he hadn't replied the last few days. He wasn't angry or anything, just... needed to think on a few things. It was weird.

"Fine." He replied, not bothering to turn around in his chair, just fiddling with a pen.

She frowned, scooting a little closer, "Just fine? Are you close to a meet up or not? It's been like... a month now."

He groaned, "I haven't spoken to him in a few days."

Jacocks was suddenly closer, staring at him with something like maternal concern, "Why? Did he stop emailing you?"

"No..."

She paused, "Did he do something?"

"Yes. No." he shrugged, "Nothing unusual. I'm just... I don't feel ready."

"Ready for what?"

Russ groaned. He did _not_ want to have a conversation with Jacocks in the middle of the police station about sex with someone he'd never met. A guy. Sex with a guy. That was uncharted territory. _Scary_ uncharted territory. "How fast is too fast?"

Jacocks smirked, "You sound like a teenage girl with a new boyfriend."

"Shut up. I was asking for a serious opinion."

"Too fast for what? I need some context here."

Russ tried to be subtle, he really did. He stayed quiet for a moment, giving her a look that spoke volumes. It was obvious he didn't want to say it aloud, not in his place of work anyway. The look on her face when it finally dawned on her, was devilish, "You want to sleep with him?"

"Shh! Could you keep your voice down?"

"So you do?"

"Why am I talking with you about this? I- I don't know. He wants to. With me. He wants to _with me_ and I don't know how I feel about it."

She nodded sympathetically, "Has he asked you to meet up yet?"

"No."

"Did he say he wanted to fuck you?"

"Jesus Jacocks!"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms like _he_ was the one being unreasonable, "Oh, stop being a baby. Yes or no?"

"Well, no. Not exactly." Russ replied, trying to look like most of his attention was focused on the pen he was twirling between his fingers.

"Then what are you freaking out about?"

He sighed, suddenly rougher with the pen, "I don't know."

Another pause of silence. She looked deep in thought, looking Russ over and watching him play with the pen like it was some kind of clue. She uncrossed her arms, kept a still face, and asked him a serious question. "Do you like him? Enough to want to be with him?"

"I like him." Russ confided, "But... I don't know if-"

"Why does the gender part matter?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Russ shook his head, "I don't..." he huffed. "Please forget I said anything. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Jacocks frowned, but inclined her head and stood up straight to leave, "If it helps, I haven't seen you this happy in a while." she smirked, "And you certainly didn't mope this much thinking about a relationship when it was Holly."

"That-!"

"I'm just saying."

"Well stop saying." He snapped, tossing his pen back onto his desk.

He grumbled for a few more minutes, fighting himself, fighting Jacocks words, and decided to open his email. He made sure no one was looking over his shoulder when he did it, God knows those nosy snoops would no doubt try to peek. There were multiple unread messages.

 _How was your day?_

 _I hope I haven't upset you._

 _Russ, please let me know what happened._

 _How are you doing?_

 _Please forgive me if I did something wrong._

Of course, he'd apologize for doing nothing wrong. Russ smiled fondly, regret tickling his eyes. He wasn't mad. He wasn't even upset really, it was just a lot to process. He never knew he could be attracted to a guy, let alone one he'd never actually met in person. It was just... nice. It was fun and flirtatious and calming to talk with him. There were moments he got aroused, and then of course there were the awkward decisions that revolved around that. Russ hadn't let himself fantasize for a long time. There were moments he laughed so hard his ribs hurt, the man's humor was astoundingly mature and subtle. He was... perfect.

He didn't deserve Russ ignoring him. He didn't deserve _Russ_ , he was too good for Russ.

He sighed, pulled up a chat box, and sent an apology.


	6. Chapter 6

**Milt is adorable, Russ is a prude,**  
 **I can't write sexting, SO PLEASE DON'T BE RUDE**

 **Jk. Seriously I am trash, but Russ reeaaaally needs someone who's gonna pull him out of his shell and Milt is our man. I'm really excited for this, not going to lie. :)**  
 **Oh! I also don't own these lovely men, I'm just striking against the network for canceling Battle Creek. :(**

* * *

 _I'm relieved._

That was it. That was all the email read.

Russ had built up a long, impassioned apology, strongly worded with excuses and feelings and _mush_ and whatever he could pour into it. He'd practically hovered around his laptop for the next hour, biting his nails and pacing. Not a word. No reply, no notification, nothing. He gave up after re-watching an old episode of Cops, the computer screen propped up where he could see it clearly, just waiting. It was fun to mock the way they portrayed cops on the show, hyped up for television, strutting around in tight uniforms.

It wasn't until after he'd considered turning in, until he'd polished off an entire bottle of Ruben and was starting to get dizzy, that he gave up. He grumbled, lifted a hand to shut his computer off, and then the notification came in.

 _I'm relieved._

That was it. No expansion, extra remark, no letter in return, no "I forgive you" or "I get it" just a small, simple, _annoying_ "I'm relieved". Russ blinked, read it again, and scoffed.

 _That's all?_ Russ instantly struck that out, antagonizing him would probably just make things worse. This wasn't an interrogation. Play it cool. _Everything good? You usually say more_ _. Something witty or romantic. Are you okay?_

It was harder to press the send button this time.

 _Tired mostly. I'm just relieved you're not angry with me._

Okay, that made sense. It was a perfectly normal explanation, everybody's cranky when they're tired, hell, Russ was cranky more than that. But coiled tension in his joints made Russ restless. He rolled his shoulders, rubbing his eyes in a quick second of doubt, before trying again.

 _I understand. I wasn't angry. Just nervous. I haven't done anything like this before, it's new to me._

Was that too much? Well fuck, it was super formal too. He sounded like a robot. A stubborn, withdrawn, sexually repressed robot. Jesus he was doing it again... That mushy thing- The computer pinged, alerting him to a new message.

 _I'm aware, and I may have overstepped my boundaries, for that I apologize. This is all new for you, I should be waiting for when you're more comfortable._

Jesus, Russ _really_ didn't deserve this guy.

 _No I am comfortable1 I was just nervous. Im seriously good. I swear._

Russ slammed his thumb over the 'send' quicker than he could think, completely butchering his message. It looked like a damn middle school student's text. How was he supposed to recover from that? He groaned, slapping a hand over his face and dragging it down his chin. What the hell kind of reply was that? "I'm good, I swear?" he repeated aloud, incredulous. A new message popping up on his screen actually ended up surprising him.

 _Well that truly is a relief._

"Uggh!" Russ cracked his knuckles, uncomfortable with himself, with this situation, with everything here. This wasn't how he wanted the conversation to go. He liked the flirting. He wanted to go back to that. That and the sweet little inserts of poetry now and again, the jokes and the emotion. Russ wanted... well, Russ wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. He just... wanted that back. He wanted to try this out. He was curious, if nothing else. God he needed a fucking beer... maybe being drunk would make this easier.

 _What you talked about though, was that all of it? What you've thought about?_

Russ was chewing his nail, a recently developed nervous habit. Milt had actually called him out on it a couple times, going so far as to slap Russ's hand away from his mouth once. But who cared, Milt couldn't see him here. Be could start biting his toenails for all he freaking cared. The next message arrived, and Russ held his breath.

 _Russ, are you asking me to share my dirty fantasies?_

He bit his lip.

 _I think it would help me get more comfortable with the idea..._

God. If he hadn't been forward earlier, he was now. He was too old to try and seduce someone, let alone an internet stranger- well... he wasn't a stranger necessarily, but that wasn't the point. The last time he'd even really bothered to _flirt_ with someone was sometime in college. And- well- he couldn't really count Holly. He never actually got around to flirting with her. It was more like awkward side looks and stares... No wonder he was so bad at this.

 _Besides opening you up on my kitchen table? Are you asking if I've envisioned you in any other compromising positions? Because that would be a rather rhetorical question. It's hard not to get imaginative when it comes to you._

Oh God. Oh God oh God sweet motherf- Russ had already gnawed the nails of his left hand down to nubs, the other hand awkwardly tucked under his arm. He was nervous, his mind running rampant with a variety of things now, the positions, _the places_ , what would happen... His face flushed as he started to type again.

 _So you think dirty often? Or is it just me?_

The response time was longer, but worth it. As Russ played through the next message, his face flushed, his feet became restless, and a growing problem presented itself between his legs.

 _With you in mind? Always. Laid out in a beautiful display on my bed, a hotel room, the beach, against a tree, a wall, in that secret corner of the station, behind my neighbor's bushes... I go out on jogs to clear my head, and always end up thinking of you. Sometimes it's so vivid Russ... It's impossible to stop. You don't leave my head, especially lately. It makes concentrating at work rather difficult._

He groaned, this wasn't good. Fuck. No, it was _really_ good. Amazingly good... only problem was that he had no idea how to play along.

 _Yeah?_ "Yeah?" he repeated aloud with a snort, metaphorically hitting himself. What kind of response was that? He deleted it, and the second attempt, then the third, "Jesus." he grumbled, scouering his brain for something good to respond with.

 _All I'm hearing is locations. It sounds more like you want to take me on a trip than fuck me._

Oh lord he said it. Damn it he just came right out and said it. Four attempts and _that's_ the response he sent?

 _Fucking you is the simple fact of what I want. The details can be endless._

He was going to regret this. He was _so_ going to regret this... But it was hot in the room. His pants were suddenly uncomfortable, and his eyes were glued to the computer screen like it held the key to all life's secret knowledge. This new, exciting rush pumped through his veins, the heat in his face sweeping down his neck, over his chest and stomach, until all of him was warm. A small breath left his lips as he shifted in his seat, the miniscule amount of pressure giving him some relief as he squeezed his legs together. It wasn't enough. It wasn't _nearly_ enough and he just needed something... _something_... He was so going to regret this...

 _Tell me more._


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry, no sex scene yet. I'm saving it. ;) Don't worry. Smut shall reveal itself. Patience children.**

* * *

Bouncing into work on a Monday morning was probably the most revealing thing Russ could have done.

Over the weekend Russ and his boyfriend- yes, they were boyfriends now, the word had been used and as god awful as it sounded, Russ was _really_ fucking pleased with himself. Russ and his _boyfriend_ had spent the last two _blissful_ days exploring the wonders of verbal foreplay. Russ couldn't actually remember the last time he'd had such a great orgasm, let alone _three_ in a consecutive weekend. It had been embarrassing at first, then good, _sooo_ damn good, then incredibly sexy. It had been such a good weekend, Russ forgot that he had a reputation for being a hardass at work.

And strutting into the office with a smile on his face and a skip in his step was as subtle as jumping up on his desk and loudly announcing "Russ Agnew is getting some!" through a megaphone.

"Good weekend?" Jacocks asked, suggestive tone in her voice. Her sour Monday-morning-mood perking up as she watched Russ practically sing a good morning to the delivery man, poor guy was red as a tomato afterword and almost stumbled into the door, flustered.

"Amazing." He smirked, "What've you got for me?"

She patted his shoulder apologetically, "Nothing too exciting. Bit of commotion over on Wendell St, woman claims her neighbor is stealing her mail." She nodded towards the door, "You and Milt wanna check it out?"

He scoffed, "Why Milt? It's a simple door knock. We don't need the FBI for _everything_."

He sauntered out of the office, his boyfriend's - _boyfriend's_ \- taser snugly strapped to his belt. Jacocks grinned, watching Milt trail out after him as soon as he passed the FBI office. Two peas in a pod. Shame Russ already had an internet lover. He and Milt would have made a great pair... She shrugged, chuckling to herself before silently turning back to her paperwork.

* * *

 _What made you first notice me?_

Russ wasn't ignorant, but he knew when he was lucky. There was no way someone _this_ freaking perfect was interested in him without upsetting some kind of balance in the universe, or some shit like that. It just didn't happen. The odds of a handsome man taking such a blatant interest in him- a shabby old cop- were odds he didn't really want to calculate. Unless of course, it was secretly some fat, middle aged man with a hair lip. That might make more sense. Or he was married... Oh God, _please_ don't let him be married. Of course, asking that right off the bat on a Saturday night was a great way to spoil the mood. So, he opted for his second choice question.

 _Your eyes._

He scoffed.

 _My eyes? Cliché._

The ping of an alert came only a few short seconds after.

 _Yes, your eyes Russel. :) They pierce. I wouldn't say they age you, but they make you look wise. They shape you into someone who has seen a lot, and has many stories to tell. I'll admit, my interest in you started out as simple curiosity. I like gossip. After that, it became a game of learning more about you. I was hooked before I realized._

His cheeks were red, and the promise not to bite his nails after last week's messages was no longer in affect.

 _That's awfully cheesy._

 _You asked, I told. If you were hoping for an "I stared at your backside and thought 'He's the one'" then I think we need to straighten out your priorities._

Russ chortled, trying to imagine somebody staring at his ass all day. He'd been working on a mental image of his secret admirer for a while now, and liked the one he had. Of course, he had limited information to go off of, but that didn't stop him. Tall, dark hair, handsome... he probably had muscles. He'd once slipped in a story about free climbing to Russ, and that would have to take strength. Blue eyes... no, probably dark, with a little bit of mystery behind them...

 _So if I asked for a physical description? Would you tell?_

The reply took a minute longer than he would have liked, but he wasn't disappointed with the content.

 _If you asked nicely enough. I have a little mole under my right arm if that helps with whatever weird fantasy you're trying to conjure up._

Russ snickered.

 _You make it sound like I'm the perverted one. Who was talking exhibitionism last Thursday?_

His mind wandered back to that conversation, playing through their little role play... the way he'd described touching Russ... in such a public place...

 _I didn't hear you complaining._

Scratching his nose and wiggling a little in his seat, Russ debated pulling this out into something similar to that first weekend. They'd had a few more kinky sessions since then, and his weekends had become cleared in preparation for it honestly... It was just-

Russ felt excited, 18 and alive again.

 _And you're definitely not already married right?_

Russ could almost hear the laugh in his boyfriend's reply.

 _Definitely not. :)_

"Well..." he sighed, trying to pluck up a little courage. He liked this guy. _A lot_. But there was only so much you could learn about a person keeping their identity a secret. They'd briefly spoken about it, little tidbits here and there, but Russ was truly curious. He had no intention of flat out rejecting this man, but he wanted more. He wanted to meet him in person.

Now of course, there was always the chance it was some creepy 80 year old serial killer who'd been stringing him along... asking for anything more could completely shatter the little perfect world Russ had been building around this. There was always a chance that meeting would sort of- so to speak, kill the honeymoon period. This man had become his sanctuary. A safe place to talk, rant about work, Milt, life, the way he could never find a suit that properly fit, _Milt_.

But... he didn't know his own boyfriend's name.

And that sort of pissed him off.

So, sucking in one last air of confidence, Russ set to typing. He erased his words more times than necessary, writing and re-writing again and again. Tried a casual approach, didn't like it. The formal sentence sounded too dry and robotic. By the time he finally decided to screw 'rehearsed words' and go with the direct approach, he'd been sitting there for about twenty minutes. They'd gotten this far on bluntness, surely he wouldn't be scolded for being brash again.

 _Can we meet up?_

A large, over emotional sigh of relief flew out of him, his heart pounding in his head as he eagerly awaited a reply. What would he be like? Would Russ really like the way he looked? Of course, looks didn't matter _that much_ but if he was hot, I mean, Russ wouldn't mind. His grin became brighter the more he thought about it. Maybe they'd meet up in some fancy restaurant, and he'd be all chivalrous for Russ. Polite small talk, with a hint of dirty undertone. Maybe they'd go back to Russ' place...

His reply didn't come that night.

Or the next day. Or the day after that. In fact, three days of silence was concerning. Russ worried about it, decided to send another email to make sure his had gone through. There might have been a delay or a mix up or something, who knew. He kept himself bright at work, trying to think positive about it, but he ended up snapping at Jacocks when she asked him to do extra paperwork.

Four days. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe his internet had gone out and he didn't have another way to contact Russ. Maybe there was an accident... maybe he was seriously injured and didn't have access to a computer in the Hospital... He checked his email nearly every hour, just to make sure he didn't miss anything.

Five days. Five days and Russ was certain he'd screwed up. He sent a rash amount of apologies, letting him know he'd never ask to meet up again. It was fine. He didn't need to see him in person. Russ would be completely okay with that as long as he'd just contact Russ again. That asshole was neglecting him, and never before had he realized just how dependent he'd become on those everyday messages. His taser started feeling heavy against his hip when he walked.

Russ stopped wearing it on day six. He packed it in a drawer and slammed it shut, ignoring the concerned looks Font and Jacocks sent his way. If they were going to ask him about it, he'd politely tell them to piss off. It was his taser, he could do what he wanted with it.

He swore at Holly on day six.

"God damn it!" Russ let his head fall on his desk, fingers clutching at his hair. Six fucking days. Six god damn days of absolutely nothing... Was- was it over? He needed to leave, go home and drink himself stupid. He sure as hell was not going to cry at the office. Not over some internet relationship.

"Hey Russ."

His pity party was interrupted when Milt made his way into the office, stopping just short of Russ' desk and just... standing there. Doing nothing particularly charming or overzealous thankfully. Russ almost wanted to tease him for it, but he really wasn't feeling it. "What do you want, Milt?"

"Jacocks told me you yelled at Holly."

He groaned, of _course_ Milt had gotten wind of that. Nothing happened around here without him knowing, "I don't want to talk about it."

There was a small pause, Milt still uncharacteristically still, "Lets go grab some lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then lets get some coffee."

He sighed, "Milt, I'm really not in the mood to put up with your shit today."

"Russ."

He hid his face further into the safe burrow of his arms, wondering if he could hide there forever, "Go away Milt."

" _Russel_."

And there was something. _Something_ in the familiar way he'd said that that made Russ look up. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized Milt looked disturbed, angry even. His eyes were cold, not welcoming and happy like usual. His hands were straight at his sides, stern and stiff. He looked _off_. "What-"

"Come on." He ordered, taking a firm hold of Russ' arm and hauling him up out of his chair, "We're going to get lunch."

"Milt! What the hell?!" Russ yelped, confused and nervous as Milt practically dragged him out of the office.


	8. Chapter 8

**Don't own these lovely idiots, I just like to play matchmaker ;)**

 **Has anybody else noticed this stupid like... cliché language in my chapters lately? I feel like that's been happening... I'm not going to lie, I have been reading A LOT of manga recently. I don't think it's very good for my writing. XD**

* * *

There's a lot of crazy things to expect from a man who drags you out of work by your collar, this awkward situation however, had _not_ been one of them.

Milt had taken Russ to a nice place, one of the fancier little cafes in Battle Creek, more upper-class territory. Russ had only ever been there once really, a special treat to himself on his birthday. They had tasty cheesecake. After plonking him down at a table, Milt had insisted he order something to eat before they said anything more. When Russ tried to argue, Milt merely crossed his arms, sat back in his seat, and silently stared, ordering him around with his eyes.

It was a weird, but an effective interrogation tactic. Milt should work in interrogation more, he had a scary knack for it. Russ couldn't actually remember Milt ever using anything but his conniving words to get what he wanted, but this seemed to work just as well. He had one of those commanding stares that demanded the attention of those around him. The added pressure of having such dominating eyes stare him down, washing a cold shiver down his back and scaring goose bumps up his arm, accompanied by nothing but silence while Russ tried to concentrate on the menu- well, it was intimidating.

He really wasn't all that hungry, but he figured _not_ ordering would leave him at square one, and he couldn't really imagine the conversation going anywhere if Milt refused to talk. The waiter swooped in, writing down Russ' cheesecake order and accepting a curt, "Water." order from Milt.

There wasn't any flashy smile or courtesy conversation with the waiter from Milt, and it made Russ uneasy. He was just staring at Russ, this stupidly complex expression on his face- like he couldn't decide if he was sad or angry. Even the upset tone was hinted with a sprinkle of worry. It was just... entirely un-Milt-like.

"So..." Russ tried, fiddling with the fork and pointedly _not_ looking at Milt.

"So."

" _So..._ " He repeated, hoping Milt would take lead of their talk, just like he always did. Normally he'd fight him on it, give back just as much as Milt would dish out, but today he would be grateful for it. "You dragged me here..."

"I did."

His brow furrowed, _C'mon Milt_. "Why?"

He glared into his arms a little, but Milt went quiet, statue-esque in his simple sitting stance. Russ frowned, lifting his head finally, "Why aren't you talking, asshole? _You're_ the one who insisted we go to lunch."

Relief blossomed over Milt's face, that sickeningly sticky-sweet smile shining at him, "There you are." He sighed, his entire stance relaxing in a flicker of a moment and his straight, rigid posture slumping down. Like he'd been holding his breath; it looked like someone had just cut his strings. "Good."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Russ demanded, abandoning his fork in favor of leaning back and crossing his own arms in return.

"I was waiting for you to relax a bit." Milt admitted, grinning as he rested his elbows on the table, chin in palm, "You were acting strange."

"Yeah, well. I have off days too."

Milt snickered, "You yelled at Holly. It wasn't _really_ just an off day," he leaned in another inch, dropping his hand to the table, "was it?"

Sighing, Russ allowed himself to cool down a little. Milt was just trying to help. _And_ the man was paying for his cheesecake, so he could at least be _kinda_ civil. "It's not something I really wanna talk about."

There was a small nod from across the table, a little hum of agreement before Milt decided to completely overrule that anyway and ask outright, "Your admirer?"

Russ scoffed, "My _boyfriend_." he corrected, "We're... well, we _were_ at that stage anyway..."

Milt frowned, "Were?"

"He stopped talking to me." Russ replied, a little pathetic laugh stamped on the end.

"...What happened?"

Russ kept his eyes trained on the odd pattern of the tablecloth, wishing he still had the menu to hide behind. He sighed, shooting Milt this... look. This "I fucked up big time" sad, bittersweet, weary smile. "I asked if we could meet up."

"Why?"

Russ frowned, "Because he's my damn boyfriend! Why shouldn't I want to meet him?"

Milt looked taken back for a second. Russ hadn't meant to snap at him, but suddenly he was a little angry, "Why is that so wrong?!" His fist clenched. Why was he in trouble for asking something like that? Why was it such a bad thing? They... they were dating weren't they? Anyone would want to meet the person they were dating. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask for.

"I don't think it is..."

"Then why the _fuck_ did he stop talking to me?"

Milt's face was tight, "Maybe he was nervous?"

"Because I wasn't? Jesus, he's..." Russ groaned, deciding to cross his arms over the table and bury his face in them. Why was he sitting here, talking to Milt of all people? Of course, Jacocks was a busy body, Font probably wouldn't be that helpful, and Holly... well... this wasn't something he wanted to talk with Holly about.

He sighed, tilting his head just a little so that his eyes were visible. In for a penny, in for a pound. Milt was at least good at keeping secrets. "Milt, he's the first person in a long time to make me actually feel _special_."

Milt looked a little moldy across the table, a sour expression on his face. Russ grumbled, "Yeah, I know that sounds stupid. Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you, Russ."

"Then stop looking like that."

Milt's frown deepened, "Like what?"

"Like I just said something weird." he snapped, "It's not weird. I- I really..." he bit his lip, "I really like him Milt."

Milt didn't say anything, just sat silently, listening as Russ continued on, "Maybe... I mean, maybe even a little more than that. I haven't really... no I haven't _ever_ felt like this with someone. Jesus I feel like a damn teenager- but seriously. I can't even explain it. He... I dunno, it's like he gets me. He's just- I-" rambling, Russ caught himself, stuck on a little thought that had jumped on his train of thought. "I..."

Startled, Russ only then realized the situation had changed. Milt was there, touching his arm across the table, this wide-eyed concern smeared all across his stupid face. Apparently Russ been crying. Nothing serious, sure, but he hadn't even realized that his cheek was wet until Milt started to wipe it dry with his napkin. How do you not _notice_ something like that? "I..." his voice was shaky. When the hell had that happened? "I..."

Anyone would want to meet the person they love.

"I love him, Milt." he confessed, shutting his eyes and letting his head hang, "Damn it! I love him Milt. I love him and he just- he just stopped talking to me! I just- I just wanted to meet him! What the hell is wrong with that?!"

He could feel it now. The tight, constriction in his chest, the heat just under his eyes, the beginning of a headache, the cold on his cheek from where tears had formed tracks down his face. God he must look so stupid right now. Russ was an ugly crier, and this was probably the worst place to be doing it... and in front of _Milt_ of all people. He shook, trying really hard not to embarrass himself any further. It hurt. It _really_ hurt and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have just stayed blissfully happy in an online relationship. Plenty of people did that...

"Milt..." he gasped, losing his breath for a second. It felt so good to cry, to clench the table cloth and just cry. "S-sorry, I-"

" _Jesus_ , Russ."

Russ was looking up now. Milt's expression had changed again. Had he always been this readable? When had he started looking so bewildered? Milt's grip on his arm had turned into a crushing one, "Milt, you're hurting my arm."

Before it properly registered, they were up and out of their seats, Milt leading the way as they weaved through tables, making their way to the back of the restaurant. "Milt? What the hell are we doing?"

And then there was a mouth on his, hands on his cheeks, and a solid body pressing him backward. Why the hell was Milt Chamberlin kissing him? In a fucking bathroom stall?! He struggled, trying to push Milt off. Hadn't he just heard Russ say he was interested in someone else? He pushed harder, finally managing to get Milt back a few inches, "What the hell Milt!? Do you get off on pursuing people who aren't interested?!"

Milt shook his head, chuckling, before coming in for another kiss, "Milt, stop!"

"I'm so sorry I didn't reply, Russ. I didn't think it would hurt you that much." he babbled, taking the opportunity to lean in closer, face sort of awkwardly nestled in the crook of Russ' neck, hands on his waist, "I was scared once we met, you wouldn't want to talk to me."

Russ' momentary confusion allowed Milt to sneak in once more, planting a feather light kiss on his jaw before Russ became defensive again, "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"It's me Russ." Milt finally answered, pulling back to smile brilliantly at Russ, "I'm your admirer."

Russ gawked, blinking once, twice, then he punched Milt in his stupidly grinning face.

* * *

Sitting in his car, blissfully far away from Milt, Russ finally managed to hate himself.

The more he thought about it the more obvious it should have been. There had been so many little hints dropped here and there. He should have known it would be Milt. He should have picked up on it ages ago! He was a detective for God's sake! Scrolling back through their old messages, it became easier and easier to get upset at himself.

 _"_ _I'm afraid I'm a bit of a cliché stereotype; tall dark and handsome."_

 _He'd talked about being athletic..._

 _"In the secret back corner of the station..."_

 _He was good at helping Russ with cases..._

 _"I like gossip..."_

 _"I have a little mole under my right arm if that helps with whatever weird fantasy you're trying to conjure up."_

No. Milt wasn't his admirer... his... Jesus, his boyfriend? No way. He wasn't dating Milt. Milt was just tugging on his chain, mocking him because he'd said he loved another man. That self-righteous asshole was just mocking him. He could prove that Milt wasn't his boyfriend and- and he _really_ had to stop using that godforsaken word. If he got a look under Milt's arm, and didn't see a mole, then he'd know for sure.

Maybe it wasn't even teasing. Maybe Milt had just been so into him, maybe it had been this long lasting one-sided crush and now that Russ was finally happy with someone he didn't actually know, Milt was trying to take his place. Like... he saw the opportunity and just decided he'd do it. That seemed like the kind of crazy shit Milt liked to do.

He stomped into the office that evening prepared, ready to stay away from Milt for the rest of the workday. It wouldn't be a good idea to bring up this issue in front of the others... he might have to explain that Milt kissed him, and he was perfectly fine with taking that secret to his grave.

"Oh good!" Guz called, "You're here. Head next door, Milt has a federal case he wants your help with."

 _Well shit._

Milt drove them to the site, a federal prison where a convict had dug an escape tunnel. The ride over had been mostly quiet, but Russ wasn't buying it. This was an excuse to get the two of them alone. He'd stayed tightly snug against the passenger door, one eye on Milt at all times, in case he tried something. When they'd arrived at the field, cops with flashlights scouring the brush, his attitude changed a little bit.

Okay, so it wasn't a ruse, but it could still be a ploy.

As they hopped out, he brought his hand up to his mouth, not looking at Milt as he spoke, but subtly trying to shake the information out of him, "It's interesting," he started, tagging along behind Milt as he started for the escapee's tunnel, "federal prisoner, convicted by a federal judge of a federal crime, stationed in a federal prison, and you a federal agent, you call a local cop. Me."

"Well I thought you might wanna assist me on this." Milt replied jerkily, eyes kept on the crime scene and pointedly _not_ on Russ.

"Nope." Russ smirked, "You needed to get me to talk to you, and you know it. You're trying to swoop into my b- into _his_ place. I figured it out though. You love me."

"We love each other Russ."

"That's an egotistical way of saying you love me."

Milt frowned, "Federal authorities and local authorities bring unique skill sets and advantages." he started to say, circling his arms in the air by way of explanation, "Obviously your knowledge of local roads..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa-"

"..and... neighborhoods.."

"My knowledge of _roads_? What, are you saying you brought me out here because you don't have _google maps_ on your cell phone?" He stated, incredulous. It was becoming more and more obvious that this was the answer. Milt was into him. "Why is it so hard to admit that you love me? _That's_ why you're pretending to be him."

But Milt was ignoring him, turning to an older gentlemen stationed by his car, "Warden Daniels!" he greeted, jogging over to the warden, "Special Agent, Milton Chamberlin of the FBI." he introduced himself.

"Yes!" the man grinned, happily shaking his hand, "I've seen you in the papers. You're doing tremendous work."

Milt, having the gall to act flustered, smiled, "Thank you, but I'm just assisting the local authorities. In this case, I asked detective Agnew to.. assist _me_."

Russ, who'd been quietly watching, now realized he was supposed to say something. He stuttered, let his jaw drop and sort of blurted out a, "He loves me." before he could shut himself up. Milt glared at him.

The warden gave him a strange look, but smiled politely, "Glad to have your help detective Adams."

"That's _Agnew_." Russ grumbled.

They went through the process, found out the escapee was convicted for bank robbery and murder. He was also _an idiot_ , due to be released in five days. What kind of moron would try to escape five days before he was due to be released? The drive back wasn't quite as quiet as the ride over, Milt busily rustling through theories and ignoring Russ' attempt to slip in comments on their relationship.

"He could have been afraid of something on the inside." Milt suggested, eyes straightforward.

"Yeah."

"Or had an immediate score to settle on the outside."

"Mhmm." Russ hummed. " _Or_ he could be an idiot."

"Or the money he stole was about to be taken by someone else."

"Milt, just admit it."

"Now, either Ford was met at the prison by an accomplice or he left on foot..."

"Admit it Milt. You have some sort of weird, mentor-to-student crush on me, right?"

"If he left on foot, he would have kept to the woods to avoid the road blocks he would have known would be set up quickly."

Russ groaned, "Milt, we can just relax, okay? Because he's not avoiding the major roads, which means he'd gonna get caught at any minute, because he's an idiot."

Milt had stopped the car, carefully putting it in reverse and backing up to a broken railing. What kind of superhuman was he? Noticing something that obsolete. Of course, it was probably because he'd been so focused on _not_ paying attention to Russ. He'd been paying attention to literally _anything_ else. "So Pocahontas, what are we doing? We tracking him now?"

"This railing's been snapped." Milt offered, shining his flashlight to show Russ, "And recently, looks fresh."

Russ rolled his eyes, "You know, I read somewhere that some animals actually aren't domesticated." he snorted, "They _actually_ spend a little time hanging out in the woods."

"You think a squirrel broke a four inch wood railing?"

"I think wood breaks." he bit, "I think nature has built in obsolescence."

Milt continued forward a little, coming short of a rock ledge, "And this footprint?"

Russ, noticing the print, decided this might be one of the times he's hated Milt the most. Milt just continued examining the ground, shining his light this way and that, "And the grass is trampled down. Someone's been through here." He went a step further, giving Russ a quick, unexpected peck on the lips before holding out his keys, "Russ, I do love you, so could you be a doll and get the evidence kit in the lock box?"

Russ grumbled, snatching the keys angrily and heading back towards the car. Stupid bastard.

He climbed into the seat, mumbling grumpy nonsense to himself as he leaned over the panel to rummage through the lock box. Well, Milt _had_ confessed to loving him, in his own, asshole-ish way. It wasn't exactly what he'd been looking for though. Maybe he could get him to lay off now, try to actually salvage the relationship with his internet boyfriend. Jesus. When had his life become so melodramatic? It couldn't really get any worse though, ri-?

A dirty, rough, grubby hand latched onto his jacket, tossing him back against the seat. He yelped in alarm, a poorly constructed prison knife suddenly pressed tight against his neck as a deep, gravely voice snapped at his ear, " _Drive_."

Convict in the backseat. Great. Because his day hadn't been shitty enough. "Let's all just relax..."

"You know what I was in prison for right?" the man asked, giving a moment's pause to let Russ think it over, "Murder."

"Yeah, I just-"

The man reached forward to his side, slipping the gun from it's holster and holding it to Russ' neck in favor of the shiv. "Relax!" Russ tried again.

"Drive."

The sound of the engine starting alerted Milt, Russ noticed Milt leaping over the broken fence and trying his best to run after them from the corner of his eye. That idiot. What exactly was he planning to do if he caught up to them? Russ stepped on the gas.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm considering plopping a parody tag on this story... because I kind of did that... it just hit me but... yeah. Help?**

* * *

At the office, Milt was sporadic. He'd called the team into his federal office and was passing out envelopes quick as he could, "No sign of my car, no hits on the license plate readers. No helicopters have spotted it, so it's safe to assume that he ditched it- and Russ's phone is apparently off, but if he does manage to turn it on even for a moment, we can track it that way. We can track it even if he doesn't manage to turn it on but that's gonna take me a couple of hours."

Milt rushed through the rest, "So let's just hope that Ford hasn't ditched that as well."

"Ford's gonna need money."

"As soon as Russ's credit card or ATM card are used, we will be electronically notified."

Jacocks spoke up, "Do you have a list of relatives or known associates?"

Frustrated, Milt replied, "Okay, it's all in the files along with warrants for every one of their homes."

"The money he stole was never found, and one of the suspects was never arrested, we should start with him." Guz directed.

"We should start with _all_ of them. You guys have whatever FBI manpower you need."

Guz cocked her head, "You're putting us in charge?"

"No," Milt apologized, "I can't do that, but I want this investigation driven by the people to whom it matters most. Okay? That's _us_."

All of the team raised their heads, looking at Milt in a new light. As if catching himself, Milt drew back, standing a little straighter, more defensive. He shook his head, gesturing to them, "You. People who care about Russ the most."

He didn't miss the look Guz gave him.

* * *

Russ was missing. The station was running themselves ragged following up on every anonymous tip no matter how crazy. There was no time for anything else really, everyone was working their hardest. So for Milt, finding Guz sitting out in her car was an enormous upset. Sitting around and doing nothing while Russ could be hurt or... worse? There was no excuse for that kind of behavior, no matter her status position in the station.

"So, you're not in your office and you're not going out?" he demanded, angrily perching on her car window.

"I'm waiting for a call." she responded, nonchalant and calm. Too calm. _Why_ was she so damn calm?

Milt huffed, "I'm afraid I'm going to need a longer explanation if you don't want me to think that you're a major league _ass_."

"Milt, just settle down." Guz politely replied, understanding she probably looked a little crazy, "This case is not going to be solved any faster with you being angry and frustrated."

"And it _is_ gonna get solved faster by you sitting in a car!?" He retorted, growing more agitated by the second.

She frowned, pulled him into the car and explained Russ's crazy idea to pretend to be a diabetic. When his captor went to pick up his insulin, she'd be immediately notified and they'd get him. She was waiting for the call. So Milt sat with her for a moment, just a short one, there were hundreds of lose threads he could be chasing right now. But if she was right... So he sat, waiting impatiently for her phone to ring, for them to get another chance to get Russ away from that convict, Ford, and back with the team. Back with _Milt_ again. There was so much explaining he still had to do...

Guz must have seen something on his face. She sighed, reached her arm over to pat his shoulder, and comforted him. "He's going to be fine, Milt."

"How do you know?"

She smirked, "He's tough. Russ can take care of himself. He doesn't need anybody."

"You're wrong." Milt retorted, "Everybody needs someone there for them. Russ... he needs somebody there for him too."

Guz smiled, rubbing his shoulder lightly before letting go, "Somebody like you?"

"I-"

"You're his admirer aren't you?" She asked, grinning knowingly, enjoying Milt's shocked expression.

He snorted, "So you can understand right off the bat, but I actually _tell_ Russ and he thinks I'm lying."

"You told Russ it was you?"

"He told me he loved him, his admirer." Milt confessed, "It was kind of hard not to."

"How'd he take it?"

Milt chortled, pointing to the bruise he'd labeled an altercation with his safe house door. "He punched me in the face."

Guz laughed, nodding her head, "Sounds like Russ. I apologize on his behalf."

"I probably could have gone about it better. I just sort of... kissed him without an explanation."

"I bet he took that really well."

"Well, actually _that_ was when he punched me."

* * *

The insulin plan had failed, and now Russ was stuck chained to the sweet little old lady's dining room table, drooling on her placemats with the headache from hell. Oddly reminiscent of Funk's stag night... He choked down orange juice and other sugary foods, trying to get himself squared away again. His only chance of rescue gone, if he was going to get out of here, he'd need to get back to full strength.

Ford joined them in the dining room after he tried to use the old lady's Life Alert to send for help. Of course, Ford had rerouted it to his phone, so there was no help coming. Dejected and defeated, he slumped down to the table, watching Ford flip through the channels until a familiar face appeared on the screen.

 _"Russel Agnew is a valued and beloved member of the Battle Creek police department..."_

Russ gawked, watching Milt formally deliver a speech and number for people to call if they had any information on his whereabouts. "That your DMV photo?" Ford quirked, smirking at the confused-looking Russ on screen.

"That's funny."

 _"Mr. Ford,"_ Milt continued, _"Detective Agnew should not be your hostage. Detective Agnew was only on this case because he was assisting me. It if my life that should be in danger, and I am willing to exchange myself for Detective Agnew's freedom."_

Russ watched quietly, sparing glances at his captor and the little old lady, wondering if they were really buying into it. Milt would sacrifice himself, yeah, for the publicity. Not because he actually cared about Russ... hell, the guy had been mocking him as of late. Always mocking him. They weren't friends... They were colleagues that tolerated each other. Nothing more.

 _"Now I can understand why you wouldn't trust such an offer, but I can assure you that I am quite sincere and am willing to make this exchange anywhere and under any circumstances that will satisfy you."_ he offered, while Russ shook his head repeatedly, _"I can be reached at the same eight hundred number."_

No. No, no way. Russ was not happy about his offer _at all_ , or the faint look of contemplation coming over Ford. This was probably one of the stupidest things Milt had ever done. He'd be damned if he let this trade go down. It wasn't worth it. When Ford brought him back down to the basement, chaining him to his post once again, he broke, "You're not seriously thinking about taking him up on his offer are you?"

"Would that be a bad thing?"

Shit. "It's obviously a trap."

"Would that be a bad thing?" he asked again, " _For you_?"

Jesus was everyone off their rocker? Did they all just bow to Milt and give him his way? Russ wouldn't. Russ _couldn't_. If Milt _did_ take his place, what did he think would happen? Sure, Russ would be free to go, but what then? What was his plan? Was that selfish asshole just going to die for Russ? Then everyone would know Russ as the coward that Milt sacrificed himself for. "I can't go through the rest of my life knowing that man saved me." Russ admitted bitterly, "He's a _narcissistic_ , manipulative ass who the whole world treats like a God." angry, "When he's really just the exact opposite."

Ford took a seat across from him, this small, pathetic look of utter pity on his face, "Can I give you some advice?"

"Sure." Russ replied, shrugging, sarcastic and irritable.

"Stop being a douche." he deadpanned, "What that guy did back there, you don't do that to manipulate somebody. You do that because you care."

"No, y-" he shook his head, "you see, you don't know him, okay?" Russ insisted, leaning forward, trying to make him see, "Milt always needs to be the hero. He- For god's sake, I- I had this admirer, and he decided to pretend to be him when he stopped talking to me. What kind of person is so needy for attention that he'd pretend to be somebody's lover? You know many times this guy has had his picture in the-"

The man's face twisted a little, a small glimpse of pity in his eyes, "Why are you so sure he's pretending?"

Russ blinked, "W-what? Of course he's pretending, nobody really-"

"I told you. You don't sacrifice yourself like that because you're manipulating somebody." he sighed, noticing Russ shake his head again, "Lighten up, loosen your sphincter for twenty minutes. Have a beer with the guy. Let him into your life."

"It's just a pointless, futile gesture, to make him look good-"

"Who cares?!" Ford demanded, shooting up from his seat, chair screeching against the cement as it scooted back and away from him. "Sometimes," he continued, gun shaking in his hand at his side, "the only way to care I with a _pointless_ futile gesture."

The cuffs around Russ's wrists were ice to the touch, but an even colder wave of shame washed over him. There was no way he was sitting here getting lectured by an escaped convict. "You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not taking a murderer's advice on pointless love gestures."

"Pointless gestures are something I believe in." A flick of distance spread across his face, like he'd just seen something horrible, but Ford steeled his expression quickly and turned on his heel, scoffing. "Just stop being a prick. You'll regret it when it's gone." and then he was upstairs, and Russ heard the door lock.

There was no way. Milt. Milt? Mr. Perfect? In love with... well... the polar opposite. There was no way.


	10. Chapter 10

**Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own these characters, but neither do you.**

 **(unless you're the show creators, in which case... BRING THE SHOW BACK! PLEEEASE!)**

* * *

Denial was a funny thing.

It had been a couple days since Milt had told him he was Russ's secret admirer. Of course, Russ still refused to acknowledge anything. He realized it was childish, but he'd spent so long being adamant towards hating Milt. It was so hard to believe the guy was interested in him. Or, well, that he was interested in Milt. He didn't want to look deeper into how he felt about it. Yet, at least... He could mull over it later. Drink a beer, or two, or five- and then, _then_ he could mull over it. Right now, he was getting out.

It had taken a while, but finally, Russ had the saw. Sawing, sawing, sawing away, he went faster, peeking up at the door every so often to make sure he wasn't caught. Faster, faster, he sawed, a small relieved bite of laughter jumping from his mouth when the chain finally snapped.

Freedom.

But of course, like most of his happiness, it was short lived. He heard the familiar footsteps overhead, meaning Ford was coming down again. He pulled himself free of the chain and hurried for the corner of the basement, grabbing up a bat from the floor and getting ready. He'd get himself out of here. He'd smack Ford in the back of the head, get out himself, and drag that man right up to Milt. Like a prize. A declared, "I don't need your help." once and for all. The door opened, and he waited. the first few steps down, one... two... three...

"Hey!"

He'd almost broken the bat over Milt's head. Maybe he should have _actually_ hit him, gotten back for the teasing and sort of knock him back a peg. But seeing Milt was like a weight slipping right off his shoulders. Happiness flooded over him in an a wave, a strangled noise of relief jumping out from his throat as he lowered his arms. Dropping the bat, he rushed forward, slumping his shoulders and letting Milt cradle him in a much needed hug. He buried his face in his shoulder, breathing in that familiar, annoying smell. He laughed a little and nuzzled in a little closer. He didn't bother to pull away when the S.W.A.T. team finally made their way down the stairs to join them. He didn't need to act tough right now. Milt could have this victory.

* * *

They caught finally Ford at his niece's wedding, preforming a _pointless futile gesture_ out of love for his deceased brother. Russ, maybe feeling generous, maybe feeling strangely thankful for Ford's advice, decided to Ford walk her down the isle. He had to start making a few character changes anyway. This could be a start. Trailing along behind them, handcuffed to Ford's other arm, Russ tried to ignore Milt's snickering.

Once they were outside, watching Ford happily comply to being tucked into the back of a squad car, Russ finally spoke. "I kind of thought I was gonna die."

Milt was quiet for a moment, keeping his gaze trained on the squad car as it started to pull away, "I did too."

"Guz said you bit her head off."

"I did."

"Jacocks said you also said some pretty embarrassing shit."

"I did."

Russ nodded slowly taking his eyes off the procedurally dwindling crowd of police. He glanced quickly out the corner of his eye, Milt was still watching the cars leave. "You really are him?"

Milt scoffed, turning his whole body towards Russ this time, giving him a sad little half smile, "I really am, Russ."

Russ nodded, "And you're not playing a joke on me?"

"I'm not playing."

There was a little lump caught in Russ' throat. He swallowed it down, but he still was left feeling a little parched. That answer had sounded more serious than intended. He cleared his throat and nodded, "It might take me a little while. I'm not used to this. But..." he sighed, lifting his head up a little, trying to look more self confident than he felt, "You can take me on a date or something."

I was comforting to see Milt's replying smile, grateful, happy and bright. Russ huffed, smirking a little, "But don't get too excited. I'm _not_ wearing a dress."

Milt chuckled, grinning, "Awe, no poodles dress?"

"No poodle dress."

* * *

Their first date had gone well. Milt took him to a casual place, they talked and laughed, Milt paid for their food and had walked him to his door at the end of the night. He hadn't let him in, but he'd given him a quick kiss, just to see if he could do it. He'd found it harder to pull away than planned.

Their second date was even better. Russ still thought it felt a little silly to be taken out on dates like a teenager, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy kicking Milt's ass on a bowling alley. He'd held Milt's hand walking back to the car that night.

Work started noticing their comfortable behavior around one another by that point and their co-workers started being nosy. Milt finally took pity on them, revealing that he was in fact, Russ' secret admirer and that they were dating. Some people smirked, some people booed and paid their betting debts. Jacocks looked giddy more than anything. She was the first to cheerily congratulate them with hugs. Apparently she'd had an inkling. She also offered to buy them coffee and doughnuts the next morning with her small stack of winnings.

The third date was a movie. Milt had wanted to see the chick flick instead of the action film, and since he'd been paying for everything, Russ thought it was only fair to see the one he wanted. He liked it more than he thought. The man had driven for two days to find the leading lady and saved her from a marriage she didn't want. Their kiss was spectacular, and Russ was a little jealous to not have that. His face went red when he realized he could. There was a willing participant sitting right next to him. Milt may have been having similar thoughts, he gently bumped his fingers against Russ' over the seat's arm, a little smile on his face.

Russ had leaned over to kiss him, and Milt let him.

They kissed all the way through the sex scene, and maybe it was the sensual music and moaning in the background, or the way Milt's breathing seemed just a little bit labored when they finally pulled apart, but Russ was a little horny. He decided to turn back to the screen though, feeling devious. He waited until Milt stopped trying to kiss him and resigned himself to watching the movie again before making his move. He dropped his hand casually into Milt's lap, smirking in silent victory when Milt went stiff.

In both senses apparently. Russ was happy to see he wasn't the only one hot and bothered. He let his fingers graze lightly over it, tuning his ear to catch the sharp intake of breath Milt sucked in through his nose. He took his hand back and pulled his drink from the cup holder on it's way up, smirking around his straw when Milt looked over at him.

"I liked that movie more than I expected to." Russ smiled, letting Milt hold his hand as they walked to his front door.

"I'm glad."

Russ felt a little guilty about his teasing in the theater, but it had been fun to get the upper hand on Milt for once. Great in fact. Maybe if he couldn't manage it while working, he could be the one winning when it came to sex. He grinned and turned to give Milt a goodnight kiss. It was short and sweet, just like most nights, but when Russ went to pull away, Milt tugged him back in, kissing harder than before, their dropping Russ' hand and holding him at his hips.

It wasn't what Russ was expecting, but he went with it, resting his hands on Milt's forearms and letting himself get swept away in Milt's passionate kiss. He surprised himself with a wanting groan when Milt's hands drifted down his hips, cupping his ass and giving a firm squeeze. This was new. Russ wasn't complaining though. He let his fingers card through Milt's annoyingly perfect hair, tugging just a little, hoping to regain that upper hand again and get a good reaction out of Milt for it. It wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for, but Russ settled for Milt humming contently and pulling Russ closer by the hands on his cheeks. The movement pressed their groins together, startling Russ. He refused to acknowledge the little yelp that jumped from him when Milt rolled his hips forward ever so slightly.

When Milt finally tore himself away, he was grinning. His pupils were blown, glancing between Russ' eyes and his mouth. He looked like he was going to kiss Russ again, leaning back in just a fraction of an inch, but when Russ went to follow suit, Milt retreated completely. "Goodnight Russ." he muttered, drawing back with a smile and heading for his car, leaving Russ standing on his porch, flustered and hard.

Damn it. Milt won with everything.


	11. Chapter 11

**Roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own these characters, but neither do you.**

 **(unless you're the show creators, in which case... BRING THE SHOW BACK! PLEEEASE!)**

 **Here comes the smut, would all the lovely small children please look away~**

* * *

Russ had done some embarrassing things in his lifetime. Duct taping a child's recording toy to get a confession, accidentally making an ass of himself in front of the mayor on national cereal day, hell, High school had been even worse, and he'd gotten to relive it in a revisit in his later years... on duty. But this? This might have been the most embarrassing thing Russ has done.

He's shopping.

In a sex store.

Thankfully, Battle creek was a small and quiet town, with an older population and not as many lewd people. There wasn't a... store in town, so he'd traveled over the line and crossed into a neighboring territory. Nobody would know him over here at least... That was a small uplifter.

In nervous preparation for another date with Milt, Russ had decided to really look into what sex between two guys would entail. It was rather stupid, and made him feel naïve and immature, but the truth was, he didn't have a clue. Well... he knew the basics, you stick this in that and, you know... get horizontal, but how you went about getting to that point was still uncharted territory. Oh, wait, he did know that thorough showers were a must-have before hand.

Upon entering the little shop, Russ had to keep from letting his eyes wander over the petite mannequins with corsets and see-through garments draped over them. Some fluffy, some silky, some dark and rich with leather, all of them provocative and accentuating the mannequin's curves. He bypassed the clothes, pausing briefly at an apron, feeling nostalgic, but decided to move on when he read the wording printed on the front, "fuck the cook". The "kiss" that had originally been printed in the sentence had been crossed out, and "fuck" written in a thicker font right above it.

The first thing he did (after getting over his initial panic) was swipe a bottle of lube from off a shelf, then a couple packages of condoms. He'd hesitated with that one. What was Milt's size? How was he supposed to know it? Shit. He ended up grabbing three different sizes just to be safe. Maybe it was presumptuous of him to get ones bigger than his own... but of course, Milt won at everything. Why should this be different?

When he finally got around to wandering over towards the toys and special deals the store was having, he couldn't pick anything else up to look at. He tried to juggle the bottle and condoms into one hand, but the packaged kept slipping out of his fingers. Russ was picking up his fallen merchandise for a fourth time when a small, metal basket bumped his arm and he jumped, his items scattering over the floor yet again. The clerk smiled knowingly at him, and offered up the basket. "First time?" she grinned.

"That obvious?" He shied, crouching down to the floor.

"First timers always come in here either looking really nervous or adorably amazed." She chuckled, "You kinda looked like you were both."

Russ groaned, dropping his items into the basket and cautiously taking it from her. "Thanks."

"No problem. If there's anything you need, or if you have any questions, let me know."

She started to turn and Russ felt a moment of panic. He had a lot of questions. "Uh, actually-!"

Apparently, as a man, you should never tell a female sex store clerk that you've got a boyfriend and don't know how to do it. She'd squeaked, taken his hand, and pulled him into some interesting sections, jumping right into the dirty details. There was so much to take in, and Russ felt a little overwhelmed. It was curious though, and Russ felt a little ashamed for picking up a few more things he didn't necessarily need. He'd thought the clerk was a genius when she pointed out the candies, plucking a penis-shaped lollipop from a jar and suggesting he use it to practice "fellatio". Of course, those weren't her exact words... but Russ had started censoring her.

When a cute, tiny, innocent looking girl tells you that you should, "Present yourself face down, ass up!" or "Act like his cock is the best thing you've ever had in your mouth!" you start to see women in a whole new light.

* * *

"You seem distracted." Milt remarked, turning his face to look at Russ, nestled in the crook of his arm.

They were huddled together on Milt's couch, watching a DVD he had rented on his absolutely massive TV. Sometimes it still threw Russ for a loop how many perks Milt had, including the FBI lot. It was perfect for watching games though, and he made use of it plenty. "I'm good." he muttered, shifting closer.

"You're not."

Russ huffed, smirking, "I'm great, Milt. Just watch the movie."

Milt retreated back to the film, watching silently as Russ got over his nervousness. He was trying hard. This was a big thing for him, he wasn't a virgin by any means, but his ass definitely was. He was still... kinda dealing with that. Maybe Milt noticed his tension, or maybe it was just his idea of rolling things along, but he turned towards Russ, smiling hesitantly, "Are we actually going to watch this movie? Because I specifically picked one I didn't really want to watch."

Russ chuckled, "Subtle."

"Subtle doesn't work with you." Milt retorted, leaning a fraction closer and planting a questioning kiss on Russ's lips.

It was slow and cautious, and Russ didn't know whether to be thankful for the extra minute to get over himself, or to egg Milt on further. He settled for wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in tighter. He could hear Milt suck in a sharp breath when Russ's fingers found their way into the hair at the nape of his neck, Milt's other hand coming up to cup Russ's cheek. It was lovely and tender, but Russ... didn't exactly want that.

Mustering up all his courage, Russ finally caved, turning his body and lifting a leg over Milt. He was up and in Milt's lap before he had the chance to register it happening. Russ felt a small prick of pride bubble up in his chest when he saw Milt's surprise. Take that. He had initiative too, and his plans for the night were to make Milt completely lose himself. If he was going to be the bottom, he'd be a powerful one. He could manage that. Smirking, he let his arms straighten and slip behind Milt's neck, he worked his throat subtly, doing his best to sound enticing, mumbling directly against Milt's ear, "Okay?"

"More than."

Milt had his hands on Russ's hips, one content to squeeze while the other was determined to shove his shirt up, sliding up his side on the way up and scratching the skin in a tantalizing sweep back down. "Shirt." he ordered, a small grin tugging at his lips when Russ raised his arms obediently. Before he could lower his arms back over Milt's shoulders though, Milt was hastily shucking off his own tee, leaving them chest to chest.

This was the hard part. Russ had always thought of himself as fairly attractive. At least, he wasn't bad looking. But compared to the handsome, muscular, toned, shaved Milt Chamberlin, his small patch of graying chest hair and slight belly seemed inferior. He immediately wanted to draw attention away from it, hope maybe that Milt just wouldn't notice... but when he tried to shove his front against Milt's he was stopped.

Russ planned to keep pushing, hoping Milt would just give in and they could get back to kissing, but Milt was determined. There was something in his eyes... relief, appreciation, a rambunctious hunger, that made Russ still. Milt's lustful gaze sweeping over him, he felt his cheeks heat up and redden. They stayed like that for a minute, Milt's hands content to casually roam over and around him, up his chest and down his back, playing with the little bit of fuzz over his pectorals. "Would you stop- Ah! Fuck."

When he spoke, Milt dove forward, capturing one of Russ's nipples in his mouth and sucking. The bastard was smirking around the bud. Licking, lightly biting, it was a new sensations for Russ, and ones he hadn't been expecting. His hands, clenching at Milt's shoulders, couldn't push him back, not that he didn't have the strength. It was his brain, undecided whether or not he wanted him to back off or be closer. Milt had his arms tightly circled around him, keeping him flush against Milt and his devilish mouth. Russ couldn't focus. He felt Milt's tongue flick the bud once, drawing a a jerk and a startled sound out of him. God it wasn't even a sexy sound, just a surprised grunt. Russ started biting his knuckles, trying to silence himself.

It didn't help him much. When Milt wrenched it away, shoving his arm behind his back and holding it there, mouth still insistently sucking at his chest, he couldn't contain the next groan "Milt..." he murmured, about to tell him to stop.

Discouraging words wouldn't come though, and Milt seemed to take it as further encouragement when he could only chant his name. "Milt... Milt... w-... Milt..." Keeping Russ's wrist pinned behind his back with one hand, the other started to roam downward, sliding over the seat of his pants and giving one firm squeeze. Russ made another sound he wasn't proud of, but this one caught him completely off guard. It had been high pitched and short, like a fucking girl's. He slapped his free hand over his mouth, only to receive what he could only describe as a growl.

It shocked Russ, that possessive sound, and sent an involuntary tingle up his spine. The hand on his ass left quickly, ripping Russ's other hand away from his mouth and shoving it behind him to join the first. Milt lifted his head, breath hot and moist against Russ's ear, "Don't." he huffed, breathing heavy and slightly labored, "I want to hear."

Russ shook his head, grinning, "That's so cliche."

"Not really." Milt dipped his head, mouth nuzzling against Russ's neck, "I wondered what kind of sounds you made for a long time, Russ. I really... I'm not waiting anymore, not now that I have you like this..." keeping Russ's arms behind his back in one palm, Milt brought the other up to his chest, playing with the nipple that hadn't gotten any attention from his mouth.

Russ tried to keep his voice tempered down, but a small, content rumble left him in a sigh. He let his head fall to the side, exposing an expanse of his neck to Milt and his seeking mouth, planting kisses and sucking small hickeys, "You're definitely a cliche."

Milt chuckled into his skin, "Alright."

He let his hand slip away, down into his pants, teasing the juncture of skin and denim. Russ was feeling impatient. He made a bold move, pressing forward with his groin, hoping to grind against Milt's stomach and spur him into action. It didn't work, but he got an amused chuckle for his efforts. "Jesus Milt... just... get on with it."

"You know what you're asking for, right?"

Russ huffed, pressing forward with his hips again, "Yes. Damn it, I know! I'm not a virgin!"

"You are with this..."

"Not-" he gritted his teeth, Milt's wandering hand finally getting around to opening the button of his jeans and palming the bulge in his briefs, "Not really... You can-"

Milt's hand froze, his body suddenly stiff as a rod beneath Russ. Shit. Russ quickly backtracked, what had he been saying? What made Milt stop? Most frustrating of all, why wasn't he continuing? He groaned and tried to wriggle forward, hopefully knock Milt out of his silent pause. "Milt." he begged, in a grumpy harrumph.

"You've been fucked before?"

What? "What?" Russ gawked, pulling back with confusion. What kind of a question was that?

He slumped, frustrated with Milt stopping the fun, and finally got a look at the man's face. He's been avoiding looking directly at Milt throughout most of what they'd been doing, but now, he could see he'd really screwed up.

Milt looked hurt, eyes kept downward, concentrated on Russ's chest. His eyebrows were drawn together angrily, and a clear frown was close to wrinkling the skin on his chin. Slowly, his hand started to move again, squeezing around Russ's cock in a lazy motion, like it was an afterthought. Russ whined, trying to encourage him to go faster, but Milt didn't budge. "Have you been fucked before?" Milt repeated, a stern tone of demand empowering his voice.

"No!" Russ huffed, "No. No, I haven't."

Russ pulled himself up into a straighter sitting position. He was irritated, tired of this slow pace and wanted to move pass the awkward slump they'd fallen into now. He hadn't meant to say he wasn't a virgin, he just meant... he'd been trying to tell Milt that he didn't have to be so careful with him. Russ sighed. He'd have to show Milt. Obviously talking wasn't a skill he possessed right now. "Jesus. Alright, here, look."

Shoving Milt's hand away, Russ crawled backward, off the couch and Milt's lap. Trying his best to get over any awkwardness of stripping, he slipped his pants down to his ankles and hastily kicked them and his boxers off to the side. It was hard to ignore the way Milt's eyes changed in their glint, still fierce and hurt, but in more of an angry sense than before, Russ wanted to call it possessive. He took a step back, and seated himself on the coffee table. It would have to do for now, eve with it's awkward height. As he kept his eyes trained on Milt, watching the hurt slowly slip into a look of confusion as he watched Russ get situated, he realized this was going to be embarrassing.

Russ gulped, trying to imagine he was swallowing down a serving of courage, and continued. He let one leg fall open and planted one foot on the polished wood, legs spread wide and revealing his naughty bits. He tried to look confident about it, but his thigh still twitched and every muscle was dying for Russ to close his legs. Milt's confusion morphed into a curiously excited stare, watching Russ move with peaked interest. "I haven't been fucked." Russ assured him, watching Milt's eyes track his hand as he brought it down, sweeping past his balls and gently fiddling with his hole, "But I... I tried... things."

The look on Milt's face was worth every second of awkward embarrassment, the temporary befuddlement swapping for a look of utter delight when it finally clicked.

His jaw had gone slack, the once tightly pressed lips dropping open in astonishment, eyes shifting from wide to lidded with hunger. That was what he looked like, Russ reflected, Milt looked hungry. Maybe it was just the idea of having such intense focus directed at him, but Russ preened under the attention, feeling bolder in his movements. Inhaling a sharp gasp of courage, Russ slipped two fingers in with only a slight gasp, proving his point. He wasn't going to break, and now it was obvious to Milt.

He let Milt watch for a minute, the obscene image of Russ fingering himself rendering him a delicious shade of stupid that made Russ proud. He'd done that. Milt Chamberlin was drooling like an eager puppy because of him. He hastily added a third, enjoying the choked up breath Milt let out, "Need more." Russ smugly added, looking for a good reaction. Dirty words seemed to be Milt's turn on. He got a little more than he'd bargained for though...

Chamberlin was up and off the sofa before Russ could blink, hastily opening his fly and pressing Russ down into the table, back flush with the wood. He stole a starving kiss, gulping down all of Russ's surprised gasps and moans as he released his erection, letting the moist head poke at Russ's naked skin. It left him drooling and red when Milt finally pulled away. "Shit." he muttered, low and practically under his breath, leaning down to bite Russ's shoulder.

"Please." Russ groaned, lifting his legs awkwardly to bracket Milt's hips and shaking with the excitement of being bit. He didn't even know he was into that kind of thing... "Damn it. I'm actually fucking needy for it, Chamberlin."

Milt's tiny chuckle sent a hot breath right over the damp mark on Russ's shoulder where he'd bit, the cool wetness tingling with newfound heat and making Russ even more impatient. He tapped Milt's shoulder a few times with his hand, kicking him in the ass once with the ball of his heel, "Milt. Fuck me already."

"Jesus." Milt's hips jerked forward at his request, grinding against Russ's ass and gliding up and between his balls in one rough drag.

Russ straight up mewled with pleasure, lifting his hips as best he could with Milt's weight settled on top of him. There was an unnatural feeling of emptiness where he'd been open and waiting, having practiced earlier by himself before coming to see Milt.

It had been the weirdest feeling at first, just an inane amount of pressure, not exactly pain until he'd gotten half an inch past the rim. After that, the glide got easier, and felt more natural, but once you passed... just... this point in there... Russ had no way to describe it. He'd felt like a dime-store hooker, shamelessly writhing back and forth on the plastic beginners toy the clerk had helped him pick out. It was longer than his fingers, but probably just as thick. She'd told him it was to help get in the mood when you first start, but it didn't necessarily stretch. He had to add his fingers along-side it for that.

When he was done, having cum once from doing exactly what she'd said not to and playing with his prostate too much, he'd removed everything. It left him so God damned empty. Now, lying on his back, Milt panting wildly above him and peppering his collar with desperate little kisses, his cock teasing the rim, Russ had never felt more needy in his entire life. He was filled with the biggest sense of relief when he finally felt that familiar pressure, the same one that had been so foreign before.

"Quick going in, slow pulling out." Russ instructed breathlessly, remembering what he had liked while playing on his own.

Milt's low groan was music to his ears, watching him shake his head, utterly defeated as he pressed in. That was two for Russ, for those who were counting at home. Russ certainly was. The press in seemed to take a toll on Milt, obviously still wanting to be careful while trying to follow his instructions. The first thrust in was slower than Russ would have liked, but he'd forgotten to feel disappointed once Milt was in, buried to the hilt and grunting.

It hit all the right spots and satisfied every hunger pain Russ had been fighting off. He tried to keep his breath even, to really enjoy himself as Milt began to slowly pull out, but the return thrust knocked the wind out of him. It had been quick, just like Russ wanted. Perfect. He tried to wrap his legs around Milt, his ankles slipping from their lock at each attempt, pitched out of place as Milt seemed to lose himself.

The table began to creak, an empty beer bottle clinking noisily as it fell over from the continual jerking, actually moving forward several inches from where it'd been originally set up. Russ couldn't breathe. It was heavenly, and even the slight twinges of burning pain added to the overall pleasure, eliciting absolutely filthy moans, wet and dripping from his throat. He couldn't stop them, he couldn't even lower their volume. He didn't even care.

Milt didn't seem to mind, slamming one hand sharply beside Russ's head to steady himself while the other clawed at Russ's raised thigh. Supporting himself with arms overhead, gripping the edge of the table above his hairline, Russ tried to meet Milt's intense pace. The harder Milt gave, the better it felt. The thud, the burn, the intensity, the sharp bites and tugging hickeys, everything was delicious.

Russ wanted to cum. Hands busy, he looked up, ready to beg, just in time to see a drop of sweat beading at Milt's temple. His face. My God, the man was gorgeous on an off day, but like this, dripping with sweat, cheeks flushed and mouth open in a pant... he was breath taking. Milt stared Russ down, his thrusts intensifying as he watched the cop's face contort and loosen with an expression of pure bliss. "Milt..."

His name, moaned from those red, bitten lips was like liquid gold...

"Milt..."

"Russ-"

"I wanna cum!"

Milt wasn't in control any longer, snapping his hips forward with a violent, vigorous force, trying to stay as deeply sheathed as he could as he came. With a grunt, he slumped forward, careful to catch himself just above Russ, trying no to crush him. He watched closely as he dragged a tired hand down Russ's chest, flicking a nipple on the way down and smirking wearily when Russ did a full body twitch. He grasped his hard cock and began a lazy rhythm, twisting his wrist and giving Russ a quick and dirty kiss. "You're so beautiful... you have no idea Russ."

Russ squirmed, and it sent a pleasant thrill through Milt's body. "I wish you could see how bad I want you all the time. It's unhealthy. You're so beautiful like this..." he leaned forward, and pinched Russ's earlobe between his teeth in a quick, short bite, "I love you, Russ."

The wriggling, drowsy orgasm that followed was so adorable Milt felt he had to comment. Russ had smacked him for it, but it was well worth the bruise.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much for reading this little ficlet of mine. :) I had a lot of fun writing this story, and laughed at a lot of the great comments. Thank you so much for making it a real joy to write! This chapter is every so slightly OOC but I wanted to write this so bad...**

 **On a side note, if any lovely artist out there is moping around looking for a new idea, PLEASE draw me Russ in this apron! I will love you forever! (and probably find a way to add it to the story on Ao3) :3**

 **Look away underage daffodils! This is _super_ heavy with smut~**

* * *

Russ was enjoying his lazy day off, sleeping in until eleven, munching on some junk food, ass planted in the couch cushions and bare feet propped up on the coffee table. Milt was out on a jog. After two years of living together it stopped surprising Russ that Milt still relentlessly kept to his routine schedule. Of course, Russ had been pretty proud to realize he'd at least influenced Milt somewhat with his laziness. He woke up an hour later than he used to now.

He also didn't leave for a run without waking Russ up with a peck on the cheek, but that wasn't by Russ's design. Of course, he had become slightly dependent on those morning kisses. One morning Milt had neglected to give him his good morning wake up call- He'd been late for an FBI meeting and was gone well before the sun was up. But Excuses were unimportant. Russ had woken up grumpy and groggy, wondering why he hadn't been roused earlier. Child-like abandonment ran through him, and when Milt got home he'd marched forward, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed his cheek with an awkward force.

Milt didn't forget again.

He didn't forget _accidentally_ anyway.

This morning he'd gotten his chaste kiss on the forehead and gone straight back to sleep, like he always did on his off days. Milt had left just a few minutes ago, and Russ, feeling nostalgic, decided to read through his old emails with an 'anonymous admirer'.

He smiled, reading their awkwardness and Milt's charismatic charm fondly. Looking back through them now, Russ couldn't have imagined his admirer being anybody else. He still used his gifts, the scarf was perfect for the chilly weather and his taser (still in excellent condition) was his favorite weapon at work. Naturally it was also still the best weapon the Battle Creek PD had. He'd had more chances to use it since being promoted as well. He huffed, craning his head towards the plac hanging on the wall with Milt's name on it. During their time together Russ had gotten a promotion, been overjoyed and _more than_ willing to show it off. Then Milt had gotten two.

That was still generally how their relationship worked, Milt would be appraised for every and anything that he did, and Russ would be grumpy, a little irritable, but come around in the end. It was better than they'd been before, when Milt was new to Battle Creek and Russ had a personal vendetta against him and his over-cheery ways. Nowadays, Russ could get revenge. He knew how to make Milt squirm in the bedroom, and took back his sense of power there.

During the day, everyone might be Milt's bitch, but when the lights went out, it was _Milt_ who followed Russ around like a begging puppy.

Of course, it may or may not have influenced Milt to try harder to succeed and excel, given that Russ would always react. After his second promotion, Russ had actually cuffed Milt's hands to the headboard and put a blindfold on him. There was an odd sense of power that came from riding someone with their senses taken away, when all they could do was thrust up senselessly and beg to be untied. He'd actually strained the wood of the bed frame that night, struggling...

As Russ carefully read through each message, giggling, grimacing and grinning accordingly, he came across an old dirty fantasy they'd talked about.

Russ had been having a dilemma again, cracking jokes about becoming a housewife when Milt had mentioned him dressing up. Russ remembered this, the sexual fantasy of Milt coming home to a barely clothed Russ, in nothing more than an apron, and fucking him into the kitchen table. Of course, the FBI loft (which Russ had begrudgingly moved into) didn't have a kitchen table, but a high-set bar. The single apron they owned wasn't that inviting either. It screamed less 'come-hither-housewife' and more... 'broke-back-baker'. Milt had offered to buy a new one, but Russ had _insisted_ on bringing some of his worn out hand-me-downs into Milt's well kept apartment.

Maybe that was just another way of handling his own, or getting one up on Milt, but it had felt oddly good to see a picture of his mother and father hanging next to a picture of him and Milt, both in different styled frames. The little bit of Russ's unruly chaos unraveled some of Milt's tightly placed facade and left Russ satisfied. It made Milt seem a bit more human. Jacocks herself had commented on it at their housewarming party. Because that's what it was now; _their house_.

Smiling, Russ opened a new tab on his laptop and hatched his nefarious plan.

* * *

It was several days before his package came in the mail, and another still before Milt would be out of the house for a few hours, and Russ was ready.

Fantasizing about it since placing the order on his newest kinky purchase, Russ had romanticized a string of different ways to greet Milt while wearing it. Maybe he'd pretend to cook something, maybe he'd actually cook something, or maybe he'd just idly wipe down a counter... Whatever he decided, Russ wanted to look domestic and be able to lean. A few years ago, something like this would have been completely out of his comfort zone. He wasn't one for toys or lingerie or anything like that, but this... this was a personal touch. Stemmed off of his original sexual interest in Milt, this was deeper in meaning than a maid costume or a sexy schoolgirl. It was different.

And Russ really wanted to do this.

Nervously excited, Russ waited until Milt had said his goodbye and slipped out the door before pulling his brown cardboard box up and onto the counter. He cut the tape, flipped up the flaps and grinned gleefully down into the package. It was exactly like the picture.

In comparison to the ratty beige apron hanging next to the refrigerator, this one was lush and obviously not meant for any actual cooking. It didn't have any lettering or a design, but the bright, primary pink was certainly a more striking color. Russ had wanted it to seem at least a little feminine, to play to Milt's original fantasy, but he would not be wearing any frills. In fact, the design was fairly similar to the one draped off the wall, but instead of cutting off in a straight line at the knee, this one was rounded, and would only cover Russ until just below the groin. Two small pockets in the front, and a cute puff of cotton stuffed into the end of the straps to make them a bit more cartoony when tied in a bow. It was perfect.

Russ anxiously shucked his shirt off and slipped the apron strap over his neck. He was delighted to find the creases where apron met strap, slotted just over his nipples. If he leaned a little too far to the side, one would pop out. Maybe that was the intended design. The limited coverage left a lovely expanse of his chest available to the eye, and the fabric didn't round over his hips. Russ might have felt a little too proud of himself, slipping his pants down a few inches to feel the pink strap against his hip bone.

A mirror, he needed a mirror. He needed to see this.

It had taken Russ a considerable amount of time to get over the differences between his body and Milt's. The sculpted muscle of a toned FBI agent not doing wonders for his self esteem, Milt had forced him to embrace his "cute" belly and "rugged" bits of graying hair. Of course, Russ would always argue that "cute" and "rugged" weren't exactly a normal pairing, but he learned to stop that soon. Milt would intentionally spend hours roaming every inch of his body and pointing out what he liked until Russ finally gave in.

Russ had been left a heaping, greedy mess, waiting for Milt to do more than just stare and whisper against his skin. It had been agonizing. He learned to keep his mouth shut about feeling inferior, but the underlying worry was still there.

Right now though... Right now Russ looked good. He looked good enough to proudly admit that he. looked. good.

The apron was accentuating every odd curve of his body just right, and the fabric covered the belly he wasn't so proud of. When he turned to get a look at the back, the full length mirror revealing the ugly color of his slacks in contrast to the pretty pink, he'd been overwhelmed with the urge to take everything else off. Maybe it was the apron, maybe it was the excitement, maybe it was the fact that he was alone and nobody could judge him, but Russ took the removal of his pants slow.

He watched curiously as his (only ever so slightly) rounded ass was freed, suddenly seeing the appeal of naked skin with flimsy coverage. Hell, he would admire himself in this sometime. Thoughts briefly flickering to what Milt might look like in nothing but a flimsy hunk of fabric, Russ found himself getting carried away.

He was excited.

It would be another half hour at least before Milt was back, curse Russ and his overeagerness. He thought about using the time to prepare himself, maybe set himself up so Milt wouldn't have to wait at all before taking him up against the kitchen counter... but Milt enjoyed it when he wasn't. Milt had revealed to him ages ago that he'd loved the slow torture of fingering Russ open himself, watching his face change and feeling him loosen... It had been a rather awkward discovery for Milt, who always thought it was a rather weird process, but he'd come around to it when Milt had explained his fascination with a very entertaining demonstration.

That was how Milt liked to do things, sluggish and drawn out, almost lazily, which was nice sometimes, but Russ liked the punch. He liked the bite and the bittersweet thud of pain that came from an ill-prepared first thrust. He liked it fast and hard. Over the years, they'd learned about each other and worked at meeting every need. Which was why today, Russ would give in. It was something he was doing for Milt.

Of course, that wouldn't stop him from being as absolutely tantalizing as he could. Maybe he could get away with forcing Milt to kiss his foot or something before hand.

Russ had just decided on cooking pasta or some kind of noodle (water took a delightful amount of time to boil) and had plonked the big pot of water onto the stove when he realized the time. It wasn't thanks to the clock, or a watch or even a timer, but the tell-tale sign of the loft's door sweeping open. A quick jolt of nervous panic overtook Russ, an he stiffened.

He cocked his head minutely at the sound of Milt, merrily walking in, about to start a conversation about something before spotting Russ. His quick steps hesitantly slowed, then came to a full stop, where Milt stood frozen in the living room, staring openly and wide-eyed. Russ didn't break eye contact.

This would be the perfect time to smirk at him. Or maybe give Milt a seductive wink! But... Russ found himself awkwardly stuck. He couldn't propel his body into motion, or even find something intelligent to say. Damn it.

"Russ..." Milt breathed, demanding his attention with a stunned gasp.

He took another step forward, carelessly dropping his keys onto the counter, eyes never leaving Russ. He missed. The keys clattered to the floor, but Milt still didn't shift his glance, attention fully focused on Russ as he stood, arms awkwardly docile at his sides, "Russ, what..."

"I'm making noodles." he replied, stupidly, turning his body towards the stove and unintentionally giving Milt a full, prime view of his backside.

"You're... You're making noodles?"

"Yeah." Russ huffed, deciding to stir the water with his wooden spoon, even if it made no real sense.

Milt craned his head, loosening his tie with a choked bob of his adam's apple, "What-" he coughed, his voice less croaky on the second try, "What are you wearing?"

Russ decided this was the moment. This was when he'd make Milt a pile of lusty goo. He turned the upper half of his body, willing the apron to let one of his nipples peek out, about to give Milt a seductive line- but he'd moved when Russ wasn't looking. He was closer now, an arms length out of his personal space. It would be easy for him to grab Russ from where he was, and it threw him off for a second. "I-"

"Where in the world did you get this?" Milt questioned, taking that final step forward and touching.

He ran his hands over Russ's hips, sweeping them around to feel the fabric. Russ realized the question had been meant to go unanswered as Milt continued, "You look so..." Milt seemed to be fighting himself, reigning in the temptation to bring himself flush with Russ's backside in favor of being able to stare at it. He rocked back and forth on his heels, as if trying to decide which was the better option, "Jesus, Russ. Why?"

Well that was the million dollar question, wasn't it?

"I read through some of our old emails..." he answered hastily, his attention centered on the movement of Milt's hands, exploring him, "One of the old kinky things we talked about. I thought it would be a good idea."

Milt nodded silently. The clever hands that had taken Russ apart just the other night, ever so slowly, once again set out on a torturous snail-like mission. Fingers gently trailing up along the line of where fabric met skin, Milt's hand swept up Russ's side, dragging a line of gooseflesh in their wake. The snail line, to match the snail's pace, he supposed. "It was a brilliant idea." Milt praised, finally slipping forward that last inch and aligning himself with Russ's back. "You're a genius."

Russ let his head fall back leisurely against Milt's shoulder with a smile, "Flattery will get you everywhere." He smirked, trying to reign in his control and be the snarky little deviant he had been planning on. Getting this kind of instant reaction from Milt made him all the more confident in his demands.

"You're amazing."

"I know."

Milt chuckled, dipping his head to mouth at Russ's neck, his second hand snaking down Russ's arm and latching onto his fingers. Milt gave his hand a quick squeeze before bringing it up to his collar, "Gorgeous." he breathed, kissing Russ's knuckles lightly, "Beautiful."

"Okay," Russ heaved, trying weakly to pull his hand back, chuckling nervously, "I was kidding."

Milt let him go, watching Russ's hands take steady hold of the counter's edge, anticipating Milt's next move. He truly was beautiful like this, wearing nothing but a flimsy little apron, bracing himself against the counter and leaning into Milt, like that was where he belonged... He did. It was where Russ belonged. "I wasn't kidding." Milt admitted, paying careful attention to the lump Russ swallowed in his throat.

A small and involuntary whine slipped from Russ as Milt began biting beautiful, bruising marks into his shoulder. "God, Russ."

"Please, Milt." he groaned, "Don't tease me tonight. I need-"

Milt dragged his teeth across Russ's skin, up to his ear, where he nibbled gently, "I know." he muttered between bites, "Did you bring lube out here?"

...

Fuck. Russ wanted to kick himself, "Shit." He cursed. How could he forget something like that? One of the most important elements of this whole thing was the freaking lube, and he'd fucking forgotten it. "In- in the bedroom-"

"You couldn't make me move for all the promised blowjobs in the world." Milt grinned, dragging his body forward and letting his weight settle against Russ in a meaningful fashion.

So, Russ had bribed Milt with blowjobs before, sue him. Milt had certainly never let him forget, but at the time, it had been the quickest way to get what he wanted from Milt. Not only that, but it had been extremely satisfying to make Milt red in the face in front of the entire station. One quick whisper in his ear, Milt's cheeks were pink and he had the FBI... well, the NSA intel to back him up in his pursuit of a case.

"Milt." he huffed, halfheartedly pushing back, trying to encourage him off in search for a bottle, but only managing to press himself firmly against the bulge Milt's pants. "I'm not prepared, Milt." he groaned, suddenly frustrated, "Without lube, you can't-"

"I'll use the damn olive oil."

Russ blubbered out a stumbling reply as Milt reached above them, rummaging through the oils and spices for the olive, and drawing it down when he finally found it, "You are not going to fuck me with olive oil, Chamberlin!"

Milt, unabashed as ever, merely shrugged, "You should've brought lube."

"You can just go get it!" Russ barked, now giving a real push back as Milt bent him over the counter, a commanding hand between his shoulder blades keeping him pressed down while he worked.

"Told you," he rumbled, placing the bottle next to Russ and struggling to pop the lid with just the one available hand, "not moving. Olive oil will be fine. Think of it like... a natural lube." he offered, "Perfectly safe."

Russ squirmed a bit, realizing Milt had actually managed to get the cap off. Of course... why had he expected any different? "No, no, no, obviously you don't understand." Russ huffed, his palms flat against the smooth surface as he tried to push up and off the counter again, failing miserably, "I have to cook with that. Every fucking time I have to use olive oil, this will be going through my head."

"Well then, I'll do my best to make sure its a very fond memory." Milt smirked.

Without Milt warming it between his hands first, the oil it was cold. The first small drip down the dip of his crack was surprising, making him wriggle and gasp minutely. But Milt was careful, one finger trailing down between his cheeks, chasing the oil as it slowly descended down and just over his balls. It was an unusual sensation, and the feeling of a wet trail sliding down over his sac made Russ uncharacteristically squirmy.

Milt's finger ran the length a few more times before finally resting on one area, gently circling the rim of Russ's hole and being very tenacious about it. "Milt." Russ groaned, remembering that he had specifically told Chamberlin not to be a tease.

"Relax." Milt instructed, shifting his position.

With his legs bracketing Russ's left, Milt's interested dick pressed happily against Russ's hip, he could plant soft, reassuring kisses over Russel's back, plenty of room for his free hand to work while the other kept Russ pinned to the counter.

He was purposeful in his movements, starting intentionally slow. Milt knew it made Russ impatient and annoyed, but half the fun of toying with the man was watching him get riled up. Eventually his anger would devolve into frustration, and even that into some form of pleading desperation. Russ was excruciatingly endearing when he begged, and Milt was addicted to seeing it- to causing it. His own patience was growing thin though, coming home to find Russ just standing there, mostly naked, cooking fucking pasta, had given him an immediate kick start. Milt wasn't he'd have enough patience to take Russ apart like he normally enjoyed.

"First." he grunted, giving Russ the slight warning before pressing in a single digit. One finger, three jabs in and out, and then the second. The second finger always took a little more time, a slower, enticing process of scissoring Russ open further before he could take the third. He lifted his head from Russ's back to watch his fingers disappear inside of Russ, trained on his ass and watching it wriggle impatiently, trying to shift back and meet Milt's hand.

Milt had spent hours like this before, just lazily fingering Russ open. He loved it. Russ had begrudgingly obliged to his fantasy about a year into their relationship, laying back and letting Milt do all the work. He'd been very good about it, keeping his complaining to a minimum and fighting his natural instinct to be quiet. Milt had asked him to make noise. They'd actually managed worked up to four loose fingers before Russ stopped him, panicking over the thumb threatening to join the herd.

Fisting was still something they'd yet to explore.

"Miiiilt." Russ whined, trying his best to rock back on his fingers, greedily asking for another.

Russ, for all his caring nature, (never mind his prickly exterior) was actually very greedy in bed. He wanted all he could get whenever he could, always eager for more. Not that Milt minded, he'd always been inclined to giving pleasure rather than receiving it himself. It was moments like this though, when Russ was impatiently demanding more, wanton and horny enough to forget about trivial things like pride, that Milt struggled with his cool composure.

"I'm going to take my hand off your back." he warned, "Stay where you are."

With a whimper and a spiteful nod, Russ obeyed, keeping his chest to the counter as Milt withdrew. He shifted again, swinging back around Russ and coming to a crouch behind him, face up close and personal with his bum, enjoying the show. He watched with fascination as he spread three fingers wide inside of Russ, pulling them back until they popped out of Russ with an obscene squelch. The noises were lovely, but the view, intoxicating.

Curiously, Milt slipped two back inside, one from each hand, the palms of each being used to spread his cheeks wide and give Milt a clearer view. Watching the hole spread by command of his fingers, the black little opening widening up for him. Imagination took hold and Milt's impulses got the better of him. He lent forward immediately and licked a long stripe from the end of Russ's sac to the outer edge of his rim.

Russ gave a startled gasp and jerked forward, away from his tongue. He cursed once, but took to groaning when Milt didn't give a rebuttal, simply followed him along, tongue deviling in beside the fingers that held him open. "Jesus, Milt..."

It tasted like olive oil, surprise, surprise. A devious little idea popped into Milt's head, and he drew back to chuckle, "I should try adding spices down here sometime. Might make this even more fun." he snickered, "Russ, I could make your ass taste like garlic bread."

Russ sputtered, "Oh my God. Chamberlin, I will kill you. I'll douse you with water then electrocute you with the very taser that you bought me. I swear to God, if you don't-"

Milt was up and off the floor before Russ could finish, standing from his crouch and messily dousing his hand with another round of olive oil. He lathered himself up, and gifted himself one last little slow temptation, casually running his head over Russ's hole and through the crack of his ass. It was slick, warm and inviting. Milt was steadily finding it harder and harder to keep his composure, leaning- looming over the grumpy cop. The man who fought Milt at every turn, now spread out for him over the counter, wearing a freaking apron. Milt grabbed a fistful of the pink fabric in one hand, practically clawing into Russ's hip, and pushed in with a grunt.

The gasping, the moaning, Russ's happy sigh and groans for "more" and "yes, yes, yes!" were driving Milt insane. The last small thread of composure he was struggling to hold onto slipped, and he went for it. Milt pummeled him into the counter, kicking his feet further apart after a few thrusts to get an even better angle. He pressed in deeper, trying to aim his thrusts just right... When Russ screamed, literally fucking screamed, Milt knew he'd hit it. He kept his hips angled, bring Russ up onto his toes as Milt thrust hard up and into him, grunting with the effort. He slapped his ass on one of the inward thrusts just for kicks, and felt like howling when Russ let out an absolutely filthy long and drawn out moan. It was perfect.

Russ was scrambling on the counter top, searching for any kind of leverage to help steady himself against the rough pace. On his toes, arms floundering about, being driven into the smooth stone finish with every animalistic snap of the hips. "Milt!" he cried, shutting his eyes and opening his mouth, jaw suddenly slack, grunt after grunt being punched out of him. Good lord, if he'd known it would be this good he would have bought the damn apron ages ago.

It was fast, rough and intense. Just the way Russ loved it.

A small, working fraction of his brain told him he should kiss Milt now, but his body was busy grappling around for stability, forced to take every thrust without being able to rock back. He was shaking, a quivering, sobbing mess as Milt drove home again and again until he came inside Russ with a deep, satisfied groan. Before Russ had time to let his bones settle he was being hauled up and flipped around, Milt dropping to his knees and encouraging Russ's trembling legs to lean against his own as he swallowed him down, taking a heavy portion of Russ's dick into his mouth in one swoop.

"Milt!" he panted, whimpering, gripping the edge of the counter with one hand, the other clutching desperately at the apron to keep it up and out of Milt's way, "Milt, Milt, Milt."

Milt's hands squeezed greedily at his ass, slapping one cheek again as he worked his mouth down another few centimeters closer to the base. "Milt!" he begged breathlessly. Russ was so close, he just needed the tiniest little push, "Milt," he tried again, willing his brain to finish the sentence, "Milt, fingers!"

A quick, determined digit snaked back into him, poking around until it hit, sending Russ into a blinding spiral, fighting over whether to rock back against Milt's finger, or forward and into his mouth. His knees buckled, and he slipped from Milt's lips halfway through cumming, falling down until he was sprawled half over Milt's lap and half on the floor. "Ouch." he hissed, his head hitting one of the cupboard drawer handles.

He was laughing when Milt worriedly lifted a hand to his head, shoving his arm away, "I'm fine." he chuckled, still a little breathless "Believe me. I'm doing so good right now."

Milt shifted around a little, propping himself up against the white wood door of the counter before pulling Russ closer, still half in his lap. He caressed his head soothingly where it would have hit, one hand in his buzzed hair while the other ran up and down a naked thigh. This was one of Milt's favorite parts, probably Russ's too, if he was honest with himself. The afterword, letting Milt care for him and make sure he was alright; the little massages and quick runs for water because Russ had cried himself hoarse.

Milt loved it when Russ let himself be vulnerable for a moment.

He smiled before pecking a light kiss to the man's temple, not at all surprised to hear a lazy grumble in reply. "You want me to finish the pasta?" he asked, rubbing a light circle over his back now, soothing him. Russ nodded, grumbling yet again.

With a chuckle, Milt carefully extracted himself, pulling his clothes back in order and zipping up his fly as he stood. Hell, most of his clothes were still on. The tie had been lost somewhere in the struggle, now discarded haphazardly on the kitchen floor. Milt briefly considered picking it up and putting it away, but before he could make a move for it, a heavy weight settled against his leg.

Russ had leaned into him, one arm draped lazily around and the other in his lap. Sometimes... Russ really was a different person after sex. He was happy, gooey, absolutely adorable... Milt grinned, abandoning the idea of the tie and instead focusing on the few ingredients Russ had pulled out already.

He smirked, eyes flickering over the tall green bottle, "You want a red sauce for the noodles? Or would you prefer salt and olive oil?"

"I will tase you, Chamberlin. Mark my words."


End file.
